Other Vengeance 2
by Wayward
Summary: Beast Wars. The aliens, fed up with the Beast Warriors wreaking havoc on their planet, decide to kill them ... but gently. TFs as humans fic. New: This, And What Needful Else.
1. Immediate Survival: Part 1

Note: _Other Vengeance 2.0: Immediate Survival_ is ( the beginning of ) a rewrite of _Other Vengeance_, a story I started in 2002. You can find the first nine chapters of the original _Other Vengeance_ up on my website. The link's on my bio page.

Author's notes are at the end of part three. Hold off asking questions until then.

* * *

Another asked, _Mercy?_

Another recited, _That which is not part of the One shall become Void._

It said, _We will make them part of the One._

It said, _We who create life should not destroy it._

Another said, _But the Experiment …_

It interjected, _Will continue. Let the random factors live. They will expire soon, and cause no more damage. When they are dead, they will simply break down into raw material. The Experiment will not be harmed. To sterilise the entire Project just for this would be wasteful. Our work is not so delicate that sixty years will make a difference._

Another asked, _But what if they breed?_

It said, _They are too few for a sustainable colony. They could not outbreed with the native dominants. They are no threat. There is room for mercy._

Another stated, _They will be watched. There are ways in which our work is _very _delicate. If any random factor tries to upset the pattern …_

_Then,_ it said, _it will be destroyed._

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Immediate Survival - part one **

Heat. Stench. Pain.

_Run._

Megatron struggled to his feet, holding the arm of his chair for support. The world was invisible fire, burning his optics and coiling inside him, pounding in his head and in his chest. "Predacons!" he shouted, and found the act to be agony. "Evacuate the base – _now!_"

No one answered. Megatron quickly scanned the room, angry to find most of his sensors missing and his vision burning and blurred. There was a tangle of red by one computer station – Terrorsaur.

The Predacon commander stepped cautiously onto a hoverpad, unwilling to trust a jump, and went down to his air warrior. He grabbed Terrorsaur by his upper arms, dimly realised that the pteranodon's wings should have made the action impossible, and couldn't bring himself to care. What worried him more was that Terrorsaur seemed taller and heavier than he should have been. "Terrorsaur! Awaken!"

Terrorsaur's voice scraped worse than usual. "… Megatron?"

"Who else, idiot?" Still holding up the air warrior by one arm, he turned to see where the others were and found Scorponok and Waspinator unconscious on the lower level of the command deck. "Collect up Waspinator. I'll get Scorponok," he ordered.

Sight was hampered by the burning in his optics, blurred as if seeing through fluid, and then he realised he _was_ seeing through fluid … _No time. Get Scorponok. Run._ Like Terrorsaur, Scorponok was too big and too heavy, but Megatron managed to wrestle the limp form onto his hoverpad and tear out of the control room.

His sense of urgency and the pounding in his head faded somewhat in the hall, enough that Megatron took a glance back to see if Terrorsaur was following. The air warrior was, and the green and yellow figure on the hoverpad by his feet meant that he'd managed to grab Waspinator. Beyond them, the door to the control room had closed automatically.

Megatron angrily tried to blink then wipe the fluid from his optics in an attempt to clear his vision. It worked, briefly, but the pain increased and with it the fluid. Everything was wrong, seriously wrong, and he didn't have time to think because they were under attack …

_But that's not right either, is it?_ "Computer, _are_ we under attack?"

"_Negative."_

"Stop," Megatron ordered, bringing his own hoverpad to a halt.

Terrorsaur obeyed, tried to glare, then dragged his hand across his optics before succeeding. "What 'stop'? We've got to get out of here!"

"Think! We're not under attack. The heat itself was the threat – I believe we were being affected by the proximity of the lava," said Megatron. "Outside is a volcanic plain. Evacuation isn't feasible." He switched his attention back to the base. "Computer, did the energy wave take out our climate control system?"

"_Negative."_

"Then why is it so hot in here?"

There was a pause. "_Temperature inside the Predacon base is normal."_

His internal environmental compensators were obviously malfunctioning. "Lower the temperature and scrub out the gases from the lava as much as possible without overloading the system. And increase the lights by fifty percent." Not only was his vision blurred by fluid, not only did he seem to be missing the datascreen that generally superimposed over his sight, his vision couldn't even pierce the usual gloom of the base. The brighter lights hurt his optics, but the choice seemed to be a bit more pain or the risk of tripping in the dark.

He tried to key in an internal diagnostic, but that system wasn't working either. He couldn't properly assess his damages, only feel them. Most of it was pounding – a pounding in his head and a pounding in his chest, though the latter felt more like an overworked pump than serious damage. It was one of the two systems he could feel within himself – the other was a ventilator, and that felt like it was full of smoke. The rest of him felt like it was a bag full of semi-solid rubber. It was a distinctly unpleasant feeling.

And the heat. Heat shouldn't be like this. Heat shouldn't cling. Heat shouldn't _choke_. Even away from the lava, even with the base's environmental compensators working as hard as possible, it was still too hot.

With the enhanced lighting, this was the first time Megatron had a chance to really get a look at the situation. Or, more specifically, at Terrorsaur, who had lost his wings, metal, and at least thirty centimetres off his height. He only seemed taller because Megatron was shorter as well. The burns on the air warrior's face and the clear fluid that dripped from his optics did nothing to help his appearance. "We've … been reformatted?"

"Oh, _now_ you notice," rasped Terrorsaur. No longer fuelled by panic, the air warrior seemed on the verge of collapse. "What now?"

A long soak in a CR tank sounded good, but there were too many questions that Megatron wanted immediate answers for. "To the science lab, I think, yes. The aliens' attack has changed us, and I want to know our limitations."

The room would be crowded with the hoverpads, so they parked them in the hall outside. Terrorsaur touched his fingers to his forehead, then stared when they came back damp. "Either the humidity has jumped or I'm leaking."

"You don't appear to be damaged badly enough for that," said Megatron, hoping it was true since they all seemed to have the same problem. He couldn't identify the liquid, but he also knew that his chemoreceptors were malfunctioning. The whole base stank of lava, for one. He'd known that lava had a strong smell, he lived with it every day, but it had never registered as foul before.

Terrorsaur helped Megatron get Waspinator and Scorponok onto two of the work tables, then climbed up on the third himself and collapsed.

"Terrorsaur?"

"I'm still here, I only wish I was going into stasis," groaned the air warrior, lying on his front with his head pillowed on one arm. "This isn't the _worst_ pain ever, but it's a _new_ pain. It's like all my gyros are off but one in my midsection and it's spinning backwards and it _hurts_. How are you even standing up?"

Sheer force of will, but let Terrorsaur think him strong. Megatron activated the scanners above Scorponok and Waspinator. A full scan would take several minutes.

He inspected his second-in-command's face with his fingers, and was displeased to realise his tactile sensitivity had been damped. Aside from the unconsciousness and some burns on his face and hands, Scorponok seemed undamaged. The burns on his hands were a bit strange – the other three Predacons didn't have them. But then, Scorponok's hands seemed to be made of the same material as his face.

Megatron lifted one of Scorponok's hands and pried open his fist. The technician's palms and the undersides of his fingers were clean. The burns ran partway down his forearms, the material draped around them too loose to protect him from the heated air.

Megatron reached up to touch his own cheek, and found the tactile sensors in his fingers basically useless. The ones in his face worked fine, though, and screamed pain. They all had the same facial burns, it seemed.

He returned his attention to Scorponok. Scorponok's body was far too soft, but then all the Predacons were used to metal scales and hard synthleather and pseudochitin. Yielding flesh might be perfectly normal on a … mammal, Megatron decided. Scorponok had fur, even if it was just on the top of his head and above his optics.

"This seems to be a beast-mode," said Megatron eventually. "A rather pointless one. Or our beast-modes and robot-modes were switched around so that we turn into robotic-looking animals."

Terrorsaur pushed himself up on his hands then swung his feet over the side of the table. He held out his arms and frowned as he inspected them. "We all ended up with the same form, then – we look alike as the Maximal cats. I'm not sure how all our bits fold up into these forms. Let's see. Terrorsaur – _beast-mode!_"

Nothing happened. The frown became a scowl. "So this _is_ the beast-mode. Worthless. Terrorsaur – _terrorise!_"

Nothing happened. "Perhaps you're doing it wrong," said Megatron.

The air warrior lunged off the table to stab a finger at Megatron, but lost his balance and caught himself on the table between them, the one Scorponok was lying on. "It's _transformation_. There's no 'doing it wrong'. I can feel the trigger in my head, it just doesn't connect to anything. Like when you lose a limb, like … like my _wings_."

Terrorsaur stepped back, then tried to step into the air. After a few attempts, he sat on his table again and levelled a black glare at Megatron. "You wanted limitations? I can't fly, either." His expression turned to one of horror. "Oh, Primus. If I hadn't felt so weak back in the control room, I'd have tried to fly, and then … then …"

Megatron cut the air warrior off before he could work himself into a panic. "Perhaps we've been infected with a transformation lock virus. That will be easy enough to deal with. Goodness knows we're created enough ways to do such things to the Maximals."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Terrorsaur demanded.

"These are new bodies. Nothing more, nothing less, and nothing to panic about."

"We can't transform, we can't fly, and we've been significantly weakened!" Terrorsaur yelled. "The aliens probably turned us into these soft _things_ so they can come and pick us off more easily!" Shouting turned out to be too much for him and he sagged back against his table as a coughing fit overtook him.

If it wasn't lava fumes making his head hurt, it was Terrorsaur. "Then we should remain calm so that we might fight back when they come!"

The voice of the computer interrupted the argument. "_Scanning complete."_

Megatron checked the screen. There were only trace amounts of metal in their bodies, and the only synthetics were their outermost layers. "By the Pit …"

"Megatron?"

"We seem to be almost entirely organic. This is _flesh_."

"What? That doesn't make any sense."

The Predacon commander sighed and tore his incredulous gaze from the readouts to frown at his air warrior. "After all we've seen of the aliens' work, I should think that the complete transmutation of matter is within their power."

"So how come I can still feel my transformation triggers and stuff?" Terrorsaur demanded. "When I went from gliderjet to pteranodon, I lost the wings on my back, but I also lost the feeling of having wings on my back. Now I still feel like I've got wings on my arms. And don't tell me I'm crazy, because I've been watching you and you've been favouring your left hand."

"I have … Hm." Megatron inspected his right hand – the one that so recently been a delivery system for reptilian teeth in crushing jaws. It had been almost a year since they'd taken on beast-modes, not nearly long enough to become so used to their forms to act as though they still wore them. They'd only worn these flesh-forms for fifteen minutes, but a reformat so soon after the last shouldn't carry any residuals. If anything, he ought feel like his pre-beast body, and that had two hands. "This is actually reassuring," said Megatron. "Our programming wasn't updated for these new forms. The aliens could only alter our bodies, not our minds."

He turned around to check on Waspinator, to see if he could learn something from the scout that he couldn't from Scorponok, and frowned. "He's not breathing."

Terrorsaur came over and leaned over Waspinator. "That's not right. I don't know much about organic life, but he _should_ be breathing."

"Computer, scan Waspinator for life signs."

"_Predacon unit Waspinator is not in the base."_

Of course. Being organic meant no energy signature. The computer recognised their voices but not their bodies, and being an insentient computer, didn't see anything odd about that. "Scan the being on this table for life signs, using the fauna of this planet as a reference point."

There was a significant pause. "_Contradictory data."_

"List it."

"_Respiration – none. Heartbeat – none. Electroencephalic activity – none. Cellular processes – normal but increasing speed."_

"No." It wasn't a screamed denial, merely a flat rejection. Terrorsaur shook his head. "Waspinator's not any more damaged than we are. He's been through worse. He'll be fine. Just drop him in the tank."

"Oh, yes, and a CR tank would know how to repair an organic being. It would take him apart if it registered his presence at all. Do you ever think or do you just make noise?" Megatron glanced towards the door. "I have some things to take care of. Remain here."

Terrorsaur arched an eyebrow at him. "Where else is there to go?"

He took one of the hoverpads because it was faster and hurt less than walking, and went to his quarters. It didn't have quite the full capabilities of the command deck, but Megatron had controls and overrides for most of the base's systems in his room. He keyed in his codes and took stock. Power levels were good – he'd made sure the base was running at full efficiency in preparation for the alien attack. Repairs would need to be made, though. The energy of the wave had wreaked havoc with most of the base's electrical systems.

"Computer, deactivate the internal security system." It wasn't programmed to attack organics, but Megatron didn't want to continue risking the possibility that it might decide to do so. "Has anyone attempted communication with the base since the energy wave struck?"

"_Negative."_

"Reroute the communications system to that signals going to the control room go to the lab instead." If Inferno, Tarantulas, or Blackarachnia tried to get in contact with them, he wanted to know.

The important tasks out of the way, Megatron let himself fall into a chair. He agreed with Terrorsaur's assessment – he'd known more pain, but not pain like this, made worse by altered senses and the lack of internal diagnostics.

Megatron brushed dampness from his forehead again. It seemed to only leak from his face and neck – the rest of his body appeared dry. It _felt_ damp, though, the outer layer clinging and moving strangely, which was another worry. Internal leakage couldn't be repaired now.

So, this was organic. A condition deliberately caused by the aliens for no reason he could fathom. Destruction was always easier than alteration, so why did they waste the effort and energy? Of course, these were the beings who thought that a flying island covered in booby traps was a good idea.

He looked over at the Golden Discs, suspended in their force field. The aliens had changed them, and perhaps the secrets of total matter transmutation were hidden on their Disc.

If only his head would stop aching so he could _think_ …

Megatron returned to the lab, opened the door, and threw himself flat when laserfire lanced over his head. "_Terrorsaur, you idiot!_"

There was a clatter and footsteps and the air warrior was helping him back to his feet. "I'm jumpy, okay? You might have been an alien."

Once back on his feet, Megatron shoved Terrorsaur away. "Do I _look_ like an alien?"

"Yes!"

"You know what I mean!" snapped Megatron. _Terrorsaur. I had to be stuck with stupid, stupid Terrorsaur and not anyone useful._ "I told you to stay here and I know that we don't keep guns in here!"

Terrorsaur went back to retrieve the offending weapon. It was his usual blaster, a bit too large for him now, but not so much that he couldn't wield it. "It came with me. I heard a noise, reached back automatically, and found it strapped to my back like usual."

_And between my blurred vision and his long hair, I never noticed. Blast._ "Why did you keep your gun when the rest of us didn't?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's not a part of me. The rest of you had integrated weapons."

"Put it away, yes. We don't need any accidents." Before Terrorsaur could protest, Megatron held up a hand. "And before you ask, no, I don't think it would be any use against a species that can cause the complete transmutation of matter. Now, any change in the others?"

Terrorsaur reluctantly set his gun on the counter instead of returning it to its holster. "Scorponok groaned once. I tried to wake him up, but no go."

Waspinator coughed suddenly. Terrorsaur shot Megatron an I-told-you-so look and went over to tend to his partner. Not that he had any idea what that would entail now, so he just patted Waspinator's back and made soothing noises. The scout struggled to turn onto his front, then coughed up a mixture of blood and a clear, yellowish fluid.

Terrorsaur snatched his hands back to avoid getting the fluids on them. "That doesn't look good."

Waspinator turned to track the voice, then saw his wingmate and shrieked. "Help! Waspinator has been kidnapped by squishies!"

Terrorsaur punched him in the arm. "It's _me_, you idiot!"

A brief, unbelieving pause, then, "Terror-bot!"

"I'm not sure about the 'bot' part now …"

"Is always something," Waspinator sighed, swinging his feet off the table. His voice had lost most of its buzz, and probably would have been a croon if it wasn't currently a rasping wheeze. "Waspinator feels like slag. If others done with Waspinator, Waspinator would like to go take CR nap."

"Stay put, Waspinator. Terrorsaur, fill him in."

Megatron left his air warriors to deal with themselves, then checked the scanner readings again. Yes, there – almost all of Waspinator's readings had been zero until thirty seconds ago when they all suddenly switched on with no event to trigger it. Cellular processes had dropped back down to the computer's estimate of normal. Perhaps these forms were more resilient than they seemed. That was the first pleasant thought he'd had since he found himself in a new body.

Tired of standing, Megatron sat on Scorponok's table. He watched his two warriors, sitting on the first table, caught up in looking themselves over and poking at each other, trying to figure things out in a rather less than scientific way. The scout plucked at the green on his arm. "… Waspinator thought it was … don't know. Fur or something."

Terrorsaur reached over and tugged a lock of Waspinator's hair. "_This_ is fur. This stuff is something else. Here …"

He caught Waspinator's fingers and tugged. When they started to move, Waspinator yelled and tried to shove him away, but Terrorsaur was stronger than him. "Stop struggling! I'm not going to hurt you! Look, the stuff's modular and not even really attached to you." With that, Terrorsaur yanked off Waspinator's left hand.

The outer covering, anyway. The soft green material came off, revealing a slightly smaller light brown hand with short, sharp nails underneath. "Give Waspinator's hand back!" he demanded. "Bad enough when _Maximals_ take bits of poor Waspinator …"

Terrorsaur ignored him, removing his own red and gray glove and slipping on his partner's green one. "See? Modular. It's a bit tight, though."

"So this is a type of light armour, not an actual part of our bodies," said Megatron. He pulled his glove off partway and twisted the fingers. There was no feeling in the substance. He took it off all the way and inspected his hand. It was dark brown with a faint sheen of damp. So, their true bodies were underneath the coverings. He pinched the skin on the back of his hand. It hurt a bit, even for a few seconds after he released his skin, but it didn't seem inclined to come off. One mystery solved – his tactile sense had been damped by the material. Without the gloves, it was about even with the level he was used to. The material was light and to the touch felt oddly soft, not like plastic sheeting, but not like anything else he was used to.

By now, Waspinator had completely forgotten his worry and was trying on Terrorsaur's gloves. "Waspinator can change colours! Whee!"

"Come on, give those back."

"So this is all removable down to the skin," said Megatron, pulling his glove back on. "I'm not sure what the point is."

"Clothing," said Terrorsaur. He eyed his gloves, but instead of putting them on, laid them aside. "It's just a decorative thing as far as I know."

Megatron raised an eyebrow. "How _do_ you know?"

Sorted out, drained by their brief excitement, the air warriors slumped together. Terrorsaur made a face. "You know where I'm from. My formative years were full of freaks who would do any dumb thing to draw attention to themselves."

Waspinator suddenly looked up at Megatron. "So … um … what do Predacons do about Maximals?"

_Yes, what will we do?_ Megatron had been quietly turning the problem over in his mind ever since he realised their predicament. If only the Predacons had been changed, the Beast Wars were over. Possibly Inferno and the spiders had remained unchanged, but that still left the Predacons outnumbered. They still had control of their base, but entire sections were useless to them because of the lava and the rest was only just tolerable. They couldn't wait out a siege.

"Maybe what happened to us happened to them," said Terrorsaur.

_If so, things will be even … maybe. Our injuries have weakened us badly. Still, that is, from the Predacon standpoint, the least devastating situation presented._ "We will need to learn if they share our fate without alerting them to our condition."

In accordance with the bad luck that had cursed the day, one of the consoles chimed. Terrorsaur went over to it. "We're getting a transmission. Audio only."

Faint hope stirred in Megatron's spark. "One of ours?"

Terrorsaur shook his head. "It's on the primary Maximal frequency."

"Blast."

* * *

_Wake up._

"Hm?"

_Wake up, you fool!_

Blackarachnia grudgingly let consciousness return. Whatever the aliens had been doing seemed to be over. The hall was quiet except for the underlying hum of machinery.

"I can't feel my legs," she grumbled. Her robot-mode legs were right where she had left them, but she couldn't feel the spider's-legs that should have been on her arms. The Maximals must have taken her apart to remove all of her weapons.

Waking up in the cargo section of the _Axalon_ was a surprise. She'd been heading back to the stasis hold when everything went black. Did the Maximals take her weapons then just leave her in the hallway? Were they that stupid? The bigger surprise came when she reached out for the wall to help herself to her feet. She misjudged the distance and came up short because her hand was no longer an articulated claw, but something rather more delicate with five fingers. Her spider's-legs had been reduced to harmless ribbons tied around her upper arms.

_Interesting. Total reformatting. I _thought _things felt a bit strange, she thought, followed by, I didn't think that._

_I need to find Tarantulas …_ thought Blackarachnia. _I need … What do I need that lunatic for? I need to get out of here!_

_What good will that do? If anyone can figure out what's going on, it'll be Tarantulas._

It sounded almost logical. Blackarachnia went looking for the holding cells. It was the most likely place that the Maximals had dropped Tarantulas and Inferno.

She didn't encounter any Maximals as she searched. She hoped her luck would hold.

It did. Blackarachnia found the holding cells without any trouble. Two of the cages were active, both with unconscious bodies in them – one red, one purple. They didn't look like her team mates, but Blackarachnia wasn't looking much like herself, so she decided to take the leap. "Tarantulas!" she hissed. "Inferno!"

The purple form didn't stir. The red one did, pushing itself up on its arms and shaking its head. "Blackarachnia?" The voice wasn't as deep, but there was no mistaking the resonance of it.

"Yeah, Inferno. It's me."

He was no longer damaged. When Blackarachnia had last seen him, Inferno had been in pieces. _Of course, when I had last seen him, he was a big metal ant,_ thought Blackarachnia, followed by, _When you had last seen her, you mean._

Inferno slowly got to his – _her,_ insisted the voice – feet. "They have taken my weapons," he rumbled. Fortunately, he seemed to have forgotten just who had shot him in the first place.

"We have bigger problems."

Inferno hung his – _her!_ snapped the voice, and Blackarachnia gave up – Inferno hung her head. "We have failed in our mission."

Blackarachnia sighed. "If you haven't noticed, we're not in our right bodies, Inferno."

The warrior finally noticed herself. Inferno frowned slightly, and while she seemed mildly surprised, she didn't appear worried. "The Royalty will know what to do. We must return to base."

Of course. Megatron could solve anything, so thought Inferno. Blackarachnia debated the merits of possibly alerting the Maximals when she deactivated the cages versus simply ditching Inferno. In the end, she found the controls and opened the cages. In this weakened form with no weapons, she wanted the warrior backing her up.

Inferno marched over to her. "We must take Tarantulas. I was sent to guard both of you."

"Forget Tarantulas. We get out of here and return with –" _No, you don't forget Tarantulas. You want to get Tarantulas and take his … hm, her body back to her lab._

She realised that Inferno was staring at her. Blackarachnia snarled. "With reinforcements. We –" _Bah, as if Megatron will have any idea how to cure us. You need Tarantulas. Pick up Tarantulas' body and take it to her lab._ "Tarantulas?"

"Yes," said Inferno patiently. "It was my mission to protect you and Tarantulas."

_Listen to Inferno, my dear. She has the right idea._

Icy drops of suspicion were dripping down the back of Blackarachnia's neck. "… Tarantulas?"

_In, heh, your flesh,_ said Tarantulas cheerfully. _So, you'll be wanting to collect up my body now?_

"Yes! Fine! Whatever! Inferno, gather up Tarantulas. We're leaving." With that, Blackarachnia stomped off. Inferno slung her burden over one shoulder and followed.

Several minutes later, Dinobot's war cry signalled the end of Blackarachnia's luck.


	2. Immediate Survival: Part 2

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Immediate Survival - part two **

"We found them," Dinobot announced as he, Airazor, and Tigatron escorted their prisoners into the control centre. He rubbed at a reddish discolouration on his jaw, winced, then scowled when he realised he'd winced. "My first thought was to lock them up again, but I decided you would probably wish to speak with them."

At least the Predacons were fairly easy to identify. Optimus didn't know them well enough to pick up on more subtle clues, but the changes weren't so extensive that he needed them. Blackarachnia was still black and gold and delicate and walked with an exaggerated swing to her shoulders and hips. Inferno was still big and red and in what Optimus thought of as the warrior's 'off' mode – stiff and controlled, as different from 'on' which was all fire and violence. Tarantulas, by elimination, was the one slung over Inferno's shoulder.

Inferno laid Tarantulas out on an uncluttered patch of floor, where Blackarachnia crouched over the scientist and fussed. "What happened to Tarantulas?" asked Optimus.

"We didn't touch him," said Airazor. "Blackarachnia and Inferno were trying to carry him out."

"Her," Blackarachnia muttered.

Airazor blinked at her. "What?"

"Well, were you an eagle before or a falcon?" asked Blackarachnia peevishly. "You, me, Bl – er, Tarantulas, Inferno, and the striped cat are female. I'll bet Waspinator is, too. The rest of them are male. Beast-modes, you know. I'm just striving for accuracy."

"At the moment, I'm more interested in the broad strokes and you can fill in the details later," said Optimus. "What happened?"

"Tarantulas attacked me before this change," Inferno supplied unhappily. "I automatically responded in kind, though I was not to do so. The Royalty will be angry."

Rattrap snorted. "Yeah, and you were in _bits_ last I saw you, firebug."

"Tarantulas doesn't look burnt," said Cheetor.

"I'm going to go get a scanner," Rhinox announced, then left.

Optimus glared down at Blackarachnia. "And just where did you think you were slipping off to? Were you lying earlier when you said you couldn't get the stasis pod ship to work?"

The Predacon scowled back up at him. "I _couldn't_ get it to work. I thought I'd try again anyway, but I wasn't halfway to the stasis hold when the wave hit."

_And now I have Predacons,_ thought Optimus unhappily. "What am I supposed to do with you three?"

"Give us foot-rubs and let us go?" suggested Blackarachnia.

Inferno smiled. "The Royalty will come for us," she said with near-religious conviction, "and then you will all burn."

"You think ol' Meggy's gonna want you _now_?" asked Rattrap.

"Megatron will not abandon us!"

Optimus sighed. "Rattrap, don't bait Inferno. Inferno, be quiet."

"I need not listen to _you_," Inferno said contemptuously, but quieted anyway, turning her attention to sizing up the rest of the Maximals.

Rhinox reappeared with a hand-scanner and a toolbox, and sat down next to Tarantulas. He tapped at the controls, then frowned. "I'm getting some _very_ strange readings. Maybe the scanner's damaged."

"Strange how?"

"Strange like I'm not even going to tell you until I'm certain the scanner's working properly," said Rhinox. "Hold still for a minute."

Optimus let himself be scanned. Rhinox didn't look reassured. "I'll get back to you when I figure out what's wrong," he said, then went to go scan the others.

The others who included Predacons, bringing Optimus' thoughts back where they didn't want to go. He couldn't put it off forever. The sooner they knew the condition of the other Predacons, the better. "Rattrap, is the communications array working?"

Rattrap tapped a few buttons. "Looks like. Not real well, though."

"All right. Contact the Predacon base. Audio only."

Rattrap's hand hovered over the console. "You sure you wanna do that?"

"We need to know," Optimus pointed out. "If they're unaffected, they won't know that we were. They'll have the advantage, but won't realise it. If they _are_ affected, they'll realise why we're sending an audio-only transmission and we'll be on equal ground."

"And we _do_ have hostages. Though I doubt Megatron will care about that," said Dinobot. Inferno snarled at him.

"I don't like it. We should get the ship repaired first," said Rattrap.

"I don't like it either, but I like _not_ knowing less," Optimus told him. "Contact them."

Rattrap theatrically hit a button. "Connection established."

Inferno lunged forward. "Royalty, the Maximals are –"

"Dinobot! Airazor!" Optimus ordered the closest people. "Sit on her if you have to, just keep her quiet!"

"Oops. I didn't hit the right button, boss," said Rattrap innocently. "Want me to try again?"

_Primus bless all suspicious little rodents._ Dinobot and Airazor seemed to have Inferno well enough in hand now. "Yes," said Optimus. He checked to make sure Rattrap had actually made the right connection and said, "_Axalon_ to the Predacon base. Anybody home?"

There was a brief pause between the connection being picked up and the voice: "_Optimus Primal. To what to I owe the honour of hearing your voice?"_

Static distorted Megatron's voice and the smooth resonance was lost in something harsh and strained, but it was still recognisable. Sarcasm dripped off every syllable, but it wasn't enough to distract from the fact that Megatron had made a point of mentioning the lack of visual contact. Under the circumstances, it was a reason for hope. "Just showing neighbourly concern, Megatron. After all, that attack was pretty severe, and you're in a more tectonically unstable area than we are."

"_How nice of you. I suppose you'll offer to help us with repairs next."_

"Some repairs might be beyond our skill."

The radio was silent for a moment. Then, "_Such as your communications relay, I take it."_

"That, we can fix." Optimus steeled himself and took the plunge. "I'm willing to bet you have the same 'mechanical difficulties' that we do. Patch in your visual feed."

There was a sound like a sigh, then the viewscreen activated. Megatron glared at him through static. "_Happy, Primal?"_

Wide-set features, black hair, face dark and damp and marred by burns. No longer metal but still Megatron. Another figure – Terrorsaur – was visible in the background, slumped against a counter. Even in strange bodies, the Predacons were obviously in rough condition. "Not particularly," Optimus admitted. "How about a truce? A _real_ one this time."

Megatron seemed about to speak, but turned away from the screen to cover a brief coughing fit. He turned back and sighed. "_I suppose we have the same problem, yes."_

"Come on over. We seem to have half of your crew here already."

"_Hm, yes, I see that. Be advised that Inferno is not furniture. Do you really think I'm going to just walk into your base?"_

Optimus bit back a sigh. "I wasn't even thinking of an ambush. All right – how about the plain below the plateau? I'll send exact coordinates."

Megatron glanced down to read the display. "_Adequate. Megatron out."_

The screen went black. Optimus looked back over his shoulder. "_You_ suggested it," Dinobot accused from his seat on Inferno's upper back. He had a hand over her mouth.

Airazor, sitting on the Predacon's legs, shrugged. "Works, right?"

"If I knew you were gonna invite the Preds out, I wouldn't have activated the comm system," Rattrap complained.

"They have the same problem we do," said Optimus. "Even worse, from the look of it. Megatron isn't stupid. He must realise that continuing the fight under these circumstances would be idiotic."

Dinobot let out a yelp of pain. "All of you will burn!" shouted Inferno.

"She _bit_ me!" Dinobot accused. "Are you certain I cannot shoot her?"

Optimus covered his face with his hand. "Not thirty seconds into a truce you won't!"

"We could wipe out half the Predacons, right now," Dinobot continued.

"I'm right here and I can _hear_ you, you know," muttered Blackarachnia.

"No, Dinobot." The idea was tempting, Optimus had to admit. Not killing the Predacons, no, but at least locking them up. Four against seven would be over quite quickly, especially since they all seemed to be about even physically now.

"Let Inferno up," said Optimus. "You can't sit on her all day."

"If we free her, she _will_ attack," said Dinobot.

Optimus crouched down. "You heard Megatron, Inferno. He'll come. Will you wait for him?"

"Yes."

"Let her up."

Dinobot and Airazor stood up, followed by the Predacon warrior. Inferno theatrically dusted herself off, then suddenly lunged at Optimus. "I will wait after I've prepared him a proper welcome!"

Inferno managed to knock Optimus down before Dinobot dragged her off. She struggled free, but was immediately tackled and pinned again by the other Maximals.

Optimus glanced back at the other conscious Predacon. "Blackarachnia, could you keep her under control?"

"I obey only Megatron!" Inferno yelled.

"She obeys only Megatron," said Blackarachnia.

"Fine," said Optimus, and reactivated the communications array. "Megatron?"

"_What now?"_

"Could you explain to Inferno that's she's not supposed to attack us now?"

"_Oh, for … Inferno! For now the situation demands a truce. You are to take no aggressive action against the Maximals until further orders. Do you understand?"_

Inferno attempted to salute, but was being sat on again. "Yes, Royalty."

"_Now let Inferno up and let me get back to work!"_

Megatron cut the connection. At a gesture from Optimus, the Maximals pinning Inferno released her. This time Inferno just retreated to a corner of the room and glared at everyone.

* * *

"So," said Terrorsaur. "Optimus has invited us over. Any bright ideas how to _get_ there?" 

Megatron didn't even look at him. "If memory serves, there is a loader sled in the cargo bay. Go see if it's still there and if the cargo bay is actually liveable. If not, bring the sled to somewhere that is. Then contact me."

There was the brief silence of a minion who had forgotten that Megatron always had a plan, a muttered, "Whatever. C'mon, Waspy," and the swish of the door.

Megatron returned to the scanner readouts, trying to make sense of them through the pounding in his head. After several minutes, he was distracted by a groan. He was at his second-in-command's side immediately. "Scorponok?"

"Megatron? You look funny."

"The short version involves the aliens, the energy wave, and a total reformat. You're injured. You took the most damage from the volcanic gases."

His second-in-command had already propped himself up on his elbows. "I'm fine. Gyros are just off a bit." With that, he groaned again and sank back to the table. "What's the long version?"

Megatron explained, though the long version wasn't much more informative than the short version. He rested his hand on Scorponok's shoulder. "All told, I'd prefer if you were active instead of the flyers. They're useful enough in a fight, I suppose, but quite hopeless in this situation."

'Hopeless' seemed to be a good summary of the entire day. _Even if I won the Beast Wars now, I can't return to Cybertron like _this_. For now, our best bet is the Discs and the knowledge inscribed thereon, but can we even _use _it if we find it? Can we even last that long? We were immediately injured by the atmosphere inside our own base, the CR tanks won't work on these forms, and I don't know how to repair flesh!_ He recognised the feeling as helplessness and violently rejected it. _We are Predacons. We will persevere. Waspinator recovered. Scorponok will recover. Yes._

"You okay, Megatron?"

He realised that he'd set his jaw and was glaring at nothing, and forced himself to relax. "Hm? No, obviously. But nothing for you to concern yourself with."

Scorponok was a friend, but there were limits. Megatron was the commander of the Predacons. Admitting he was worried about Scorponok was out of the question.

A wall panel beeped. "_Hey, Megatron."_

Megatron walked over and hit the intercom. "Terrorsaur. You found the sled?"

"Waspinator _found it!"_ Waspinator corrected.

"_Come on down – the cargo bay's fine,"_ said Terrorsaur.

The connection cut. Megatron looked back at Scorponok. He could probably use Scorponok's help, but not if the technician was just going to fall over on him. "You will be all right if left alone for a time?"

"Yeah. I think I'll just lie here and count the rivets in the ceiling for a while."

"Good."

* * *

"Have you two made any progress with Tarantulas?" 

"None, Optimus," said Rhinox. He sat back on his heels, frowning at the unconscious Predacon. "According to my scans, Tarantulas is in perfect repair. She _should_ be awake. I don't know what's wrong. And it gets worse," said Rhinox. "Here. It's what I noticed before."

Optimus accepted the scanner that Rhinox handed up to him, read the screen, blinked, and read it again. "This isn't possible."

"It shouldn't be," Rhinox agreed, "but we're living it. I checked everyone here. It's how I established a baseline to compare to Tarantulas."

Rattrap, with his unerring sense for trouble, seemed to materialise beside him. "What's goin' on?"

Blackarachnia started laughing, a raspy giggle of amusement that degenerated into hysteria. She regained control over herself quickly, muttering something about looking weak in front of the enemy. Even without her outburst, the rest of the Maximals were looking at them, sensing that something was wrong.

"You've double-checked your instruments. You're _sure_," said Optimus.

"I'm sure," said Rhinox. "And she double-checked." Blackarachnia started angrily field-stripping a small diagnostic tool, just to have something to focus on that wasn't their predicament.

There was nothing for it. Optimus looked up at his crew. "Maximals … these aren't unusual beast-modes. We're fully organic."

Cheetor blinked. "What? _How?_"

"Well," said Airazor, "that explains why we can't transform. Not that I'd have ever guessed _that_ reason …"

"So instead of killing us, the aliens decided to insult us," sneered Dinobot.

Tigatron gave the warrior a look that should have vaporised him. "Organics are inferior, are they?" Her tone was still polite, but straining to contain a growl.

Dinobot turned on her and glared back. "In my experience, yes. And you cannot deny that these forms are weaker than our true ones."

"I don't like this," said Rattrap. "I mean, the aliens very deliberately turned us into squashy things. What's the point? Are they gonna try to kill us now or what?"

"I don't know," Optimus admitted. "Nothing the aliens have done has made sense. All we can do is stay alert and adapt until we find a way to reverse the change."

"_If_ we find a way," Rattrap muttered.

"While we're thinking of adaptation, there is the matter of refuelling," said Tigatron. "Energon is obviously out. Organic beings eat. Often."

"That's not a big deal," said Cheetor. "We all used to eat before."

"We could eat almost _anything_ as robots," Tigatron agreed. "But somehow I doubt that our stomachs could handle that. How strong a chemical do you think this flesh could contain?"

"Many species of plants and some animals are poisonous to ward off predators," said Rhinox.

"We can likely figure out just from scans what's compatible with our body chemistry," said Optimus. "But we need a place to start. We can't go around randomly putting things in our mouths hoping that we can convert them into fuel."

"Heh, the creatures on this planet are nearly identical under their skin," Blackarachnia said suddenly, then stifled a giggle. It was easy enough to guess how she knew, and she probably enjoyed the research. "There are a few differences, but generally all the internals are merely different proportional sizes. I'd say it's a safe bet that whatever species is most physically similar to us on the outside is also the most similar on the inside."

"That'd be the apes," said Rhinox.

Automatically, everyone turned to look at Optimus, who held up his hands. "Just because I wore the form of a gorilla doesn't mean I put a great deal of study into what they eat. I had a conversion tank like the rest of you."

"Judging by our teeth, we're omnivores," said Blackarachnia. "The local animals should be, ah-hah, fair game as a fuel source."

"The diets of apes are a start, though," said Rhinox. "Tigatron …?"

The tracker shook her head. "I do not know the specifics. But I know where the nearest gorilla colony is and could likely reach it in an hour."

"Good. Keep that in mind but don't go yet," said Optimus. "We don't know when the other Predacons will arrive. Hm. Rhinox, you might as well help Blackarachnia take Tarantulas down to the xenolab. See if anything down there will be of any use."

Blackarachnia smirked. "You make it sound as if we're staying."

"I'm just making a suggestion," said Optimus, shrugging. "Or you can just leave Tarantulas on the floor. It's no difference to me."

"Oh, sweet talker," said Blackarachnia sarcastically, but got her arms under Tarantulas' shoulders. "While I'm here, I might as well take advantage of any Maximal hospitality. Lead the way, big guy." Rhinox picked up Tarantulas by the feet and carefully led the way out.

"Water, as well," said Tigatron, still on her first topic. "Hydration is even more important than refuelling, from what I've seen."

"Well, we're right on a river," said Rattrap. "We can run up a big hose and install a pump easy enough. I'll go see if we got the stuff for it." He left.

"All I have been hearing is 'adapt'," growled Dinobot. "No one has said anything about 'cure'."

Airazor raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ have any ideas?"

The warrior shot a pointed look at Tigatron. "_I_ am not the biologist."

Tigatron shook her head. "I do fieldwork biology, Dinobot. I know how animals live and can make educated guesses as to what these bodies need. But if we're looking for some way to reverse the change, we need a laboratory biologist. The only name that comes to mind is Tarantulas."

"And Megatron, to a lesser degree," Dinobot added. "He dabbles. Interesting, though, that our main hope at a cure is conveniently unconscious."

"I wish you would stop saying 'cure'," rumbled Tigatron. "This is a change, not a disease."

"Hnh."

"Hey! Don't touch that!"

Inferno looked ready to belt Cheetor for catching her out, but relaxed her hands and stepped back from the computer. Optimus had almost forgotten she was there – the Predacon warrior was usually so loud and active that sitting quietly had practically made her invisible. She'd only been noticed because she moved. "I wanted to check the scanners to see if the Royalty was coming. The rest of you don't seem to be paying any attention."

"We've got an array pointed towards the Predacon base. We'll know when they come," said Optimus.

Cheetor flopped back into his chair. "Well, what do we do until then?"

"Work on repairs. I'm going to go down and help Rattrap with the plumbing."

* * *

When the alarm sounded, Optimus and Rattrap immediately dropped work on the half-finished pump and returned to the control room at a run. The noise had been shut off by the time they arrived, but the tension in the air meant the emergency wasn't over. "Report!" 

Inferno stood back and laughed. She stopped when Dinobot snarled at her, but continued to radiate smugness. The only one who didn't notice the outburst was Cheetor, who was scrambling at the monitor panel. "We've got something coming in from the direction of the Pred base! It's not real fast, but it's metallic and airborne!"

Optimus ran over to lean over Cheetor's shoulder. "Get it on visual! Now!" If only one Predacon was still a Transformer … _Inferno's here, I saw Terrorsaur in the background when I was talking to Megatron … Waspinator? Are we all going to be killed by _Waspinator

"It's too big to be Waspinator," said Cheetor, who had come to the same conclusion. He tried to coax more information out of the damaged sensors. "It's not a stasis pod – the scanners would know. It's not giving off a personal energy signature. I think it's just a … a thing."

"A _thing_. How eloquent," Dinobot sneered. "Optimus, I should go out and …"

"Possibly end up a smear," said Optimus, already up to his elbows in wires trying to reactivate the outside cameras. "I think I've … there!"

The picture quality was poor, but at least it laid his fears to rest – the Predacons were all affected as the Maximals were, they'd just rigged up a cargo sled for travel. The hoversled set down near the agreed-upon coordinates, but not directly on, probably out of paranoia more than bad driving.

"Rattrap, stay up here on monitor duty," said Optimus. Rattrap would be more able to deal with any mechanical problems in the scanners than Cheetor. "We haven't got radios so we'll be out of contact, but keep track of things as well as you can. The rest of you, we're going out to talk to the neighbours. You too, Inferno."

The Predacon warrior rumbled. "Of course."

Splitting up seemed an acceptable risk – Blackarachnia might have been tricky, but so was Rattrap, and Rhinox was twice her size. She seemed preoccupied with Tarantulas anyway.

* * *

"Well, where are they?" 

Megatron glanced back at Terrorsaur, who was seated in the long grass, back to back with Waspinator, who had fallen asleep. The Predacon commander frowned. "Oh, yes, and you two make such a dignified and imposing scene."

"I'll get up when there's something to impose at," said Terrorsaur. "They could be ten metres away and we wouldn't know. We should have waited for more light."

"It's enough." Barely, Megatron could admit. The pre-dawn light was enough to make out shapes and little more. "They weren't going to come out here and wait. There's no cover and they had no idea how long it would take for us to arrive. If they saw us arrive – and I'm quite certain they were watching for us – it should take ten, perhaps fifteen cycles for them to walk here."

The air warrior shifted a bit. "So I've got time for a quick recharge, then?"

"You do _not_ …" But the harsh rhythm of Terrorsaur's breathing had already evened out. Megatron sighed and sat on the edge of the parked loader sled next to Scorponok. "Why did I hire those idiots?"

"They came to you."

"Mm. True."

They were all armed now – Terrorsaur had been allowed to retrieve his gun while the others had taken some of the smaller weapons from the armoury. Not that they'd do much good in the shape the Predacons were in, but they made Megatron feel better.

Being outside in the cool of the morning helped as well. His eyes no longer burned and watered and his skin no longer leaked, except a bit where it was burned. Breathing wasn't so much of a chore and the pump in his chest had found a slower, less painful rhythm. Even his headache had subsided a little. He still wished he had the luxury of slipping into stasis, though, even if just for a little while, for the respite from pain and the hope that his repairs would go faster. _And now I must parlay with Maximals. Blast it all._

The plain gave no cover and the sun was rising, so after a few minutes, Megatron was able to make out the Maximal party approaching. He couldn't focus his sight properly to make out any details until they were too close for it to matter. Megatron waited until they were twenty metres away before getting up and kicking his flyers awake.

He amused himself briefly trying to determine who was who, but it wasn't much of a challenge. Optimus, Dinobot, Tigatron, Airazor, Cheetor … Oddly, despite everyone being in similar bodies now, the Maximal cats had more differences between them than they had before the change. However, the part that held Megatron's attention was that they were all armed – like himself, not showing active aggression, but armed – except one. Well, given who it was, he couldn't really blame them for not giving him a gun.

"Royalty!"

Inferno crossed the rest of the distance at a run, but pulled up short and wrinkled his nose. "Er, Royalty …"

"That would be lava fumes," said Megatron irritably. He stepped past his warrior to address the one he'd picked out as his Maximal counterpart. "Well, Optimus Primal, you didn't gun us down. Maximal kindness, I suppose."

"Probably," said Optimus. "What's your excuse?"

Megatron put a hand to his chest. "You _wound_ me. I cannot have a fit of neighbourliness? I do note we're missing some people. The rat, the rhino … and where are my spiders, Primal?"

"They're not hostages, if that's what you're asking," said Optimus. "Tarantulas never woke up after the change. She's alive, but we thought it best not to move her around too much. Rhinox and Blackarachnia are looking after her."

"How nice of … Wait. 'Her'?"

"Don't look at me. Blackarachnia's the one who insisted on gendered pronouns."

"Odd. Tell me about Tarantulas."

Optimus shrugged. "There's not much to tell. Blackarachnia found her unconscious. Tarantulas had been badly damaged before the change, but so were others and they're fine now. Rhinox and Dinobot had both been in the CR chambers when the change hit. We found them fully repaired, though I know the chambers hadn't finished with them. Inferno had been seriously damaged and in stasis lock as well. As far as we can tell, there's nothing wrong with Tarantulas, she just won't wake up."

"Yet some of us are … injured, despite being in full repair beforehand," said Megatron reluctantly. "Though that happened afterwards, I believe. The perils of having one's command centre above a lava pit."

"Dinobot developed a mark on his jaw," said Optimus. "Inferno punched him."

"I suppose it's useful to know that these bodies discolour when damaged. Dinobot's injury lends credence to my initial assumption. Whatever happened to Tarantulas must have happened after the change as well, since it didn't affect the rest of us adversely." Megatron went back to the hoversled and got on. "Optimus Primal, I thank you for looking after my people in this strange time, but I will be collecting up the spiders and heading back to our base."

There was a cough behind him, meant to be a quiet noise to draw attention but a damaged throat made the sound much harsher. "Oh, yeah, great idea. We _can't_ go back there, remember?" Terrorsaur rasped, leaning heavily against Waspinator, though it was impossible to tell who was propping up who. "It was hard to breathe even in the clean sections."

Megatron turned back to glare at him. "Then we'll improve the environmental systems. Have you got a better idea?"

"Yeah. Not dying of lava fumes!"

"Wait, so you guys got those burns just from the _air_?" asked Cheetor. "Freaky."

"Even the air is out to get Waspinator," sighed Waspinator.

"Both of you be quiet," Megatron ordered his air warriors. "Terrorsaur exaggerates. Our entire command deck is swimming in lava, true, you know this. Even with the environmental controls at their limits, these bodies can't handle the heat or the gases from the lava for more than a few minutes without suffering detrimental effects. The rest isn't nearly so bad."

"What if your environmental systems burn out?" asked Optimus.

"What if you're struck by a meteor?" Megatron countered irritably, finding his headache returning full-force.

"We all have the same problem," said Optimus. "If we team up, we can focus our energies towards reversing the changes the aliens made in us. If we're undermining each other, we'll never solve this. In fact, I don't think either side _could_ solve it alone."

Megatron inspected his fingers, trying to look calm and in control despite the fact that all he wanted was to retreat and get a chance to repair. "I would put my crew against yours any day. For an exploration crew, you seem rather lacking in scientists. What you have are engineers."

"Your scientist won't wake up. Even if she did, how long would Tarantulas last in her new body? You have abstract knowledge. You need practical." Optimus looked his counterpart straight in the eyes. "You're right – we need the Predacons to reverse the changes. But you need the Maximals to live."

Inwardly, Megatron sighed. He could blame Terrorsaur and Waspinator for being noisy whiners and giving away the severity of their situation, but the truth was that it was obvious enough. The Maximals could tell by looking that the Predacons were in bad shape, and between the smell and the burns they could have deduced the problems with the Predacon base on their own. And Optimus was right – Megatron already had several ideas on how the change could possibly be reversed, but none on how to survive in his new body until then. "Your move, Optimus Primal."

"We …" Optimus stopped and frowned. "Excuse us a moment. Maximals?"

The Maximals moved off to talk amongst themselves. Megatron looked back at his own crew. "How nice to know that he has no idea what to do next."

"Er … Do _we_?" asked Scorponok.

Before Megatron could answer, there was an indignant bellow from Dinobot: "Primal! You _cannot_ be _serious_!" that was quickly shushed by his fellows. The general tone of the Maximal huddle grew more heated, but they were still too far away for the Predacons to make out the conversation.

"Optimus Primal seems to be having some problems keeping control over his people," said Megatron idly. "Inferno, did they say anything interesting while you were in the _Axalon_?"

Inferno frowned in concentration. "They worried that you might still be at full power. They wondered about Tarantulas' condition and whether she may be the only one who could reverse this change. They discussed fuels and maintenance issues."

"In detail?"

"No, Royalty. Even they are only making educated guesses based on the local wildlife."

"Which we have paid little attention to. Blast."

The Maximals returned, looking decidedly unhappy, though Dinobot was the only one looking openly hostile. The others ran from wary to trying to look neutral. Optimus was one of the latter. "We have space in the _Axalon_," he said without preamble. "We're still missing fifteen of our crew, after all. Your base might have more appropriate equipment for experimentation, but you can't stay there. As well, the _Axalon_ has more ready access to the fuels we need. We should make the _Axalon_ our base of operations and bring over whatever else we need from your ship."

Megatron blinked in surprise, caught off-guard by the offer. He had already run several situations through his mind, with appropriate counterplots, but this was not a possibility he had considered. "What?"

"You're done-in and you can't even go back to your base. Teaming up is the only logical way to deal with our mutual problem," Optimus pointed out. "I'm offering to let you stay at the _Axalon_, at least for now."

_Maximal charity. By the Pit where burns the Inferno, by the Forgefires of Primus, _Maximal charity_. If I had to sum up the reason for the Predacon rebellion in two words, I would sneer, "Maximal charity." Caused here by environmental issues and illogical aliens instead of an oppressive, favourites-playing government, but the end result is the same. Oh, when I recover, Optimus Primal, when I no longer need your aid, you – will – _suffer

Megatron glanced over at Dinobot and caught his gaze, but Dinobot quickly looked away. _I wonder, did you protest because you think we're a security risk, or was that sympathy, knowing that we wouldn't be able to stand hearing Primal's offer? You were one of mine – you might be a Maximal out of wounded pride and your odd sense of honour, but you remember why there are Predacon outlaws._

Aloud, Megatron said, "Very well. I understand the logic of your reasoning – a pooling of resources so to deal with this little situation more quickly. I dislike the thought of staying at the _Axalon_, but it seems my choices are limited."

"Don't worry," said Optimus dryly. "We won't be pleased to have you as houseguests, either."

"Ah, honesty. Standard 'no shooting' terms?"

Optimus nodded. "I'd think so. We can't disarm completely – there's still the local wildlife to contend with. It might start looking at us as edible. And I'd also say no fighting on board the _Axalon_, just for some neutral territory."

Megatron signalled his people to get back on the hoversled and activated it. "Lead on, then," he sighed.

_For now, I have lost my strength and my base of operations. I have the Discs, but am unable to access them. All I have right now are my crew, so I must see that they are tended to before I weaken any further. Survival always comes first._


	3. Immediate Survival: Part 3

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Immediate Survival - part three **

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nobody said anything about bringin' more stinkin' Preds back here!" Rattrap protested. "And I _do_ mean 'stinking'."

"It's lava," said Tigatron. "They've always smelled like that."

"Yeah, well now it's disgusting."

The control room of the _Axalon_ was getting crowded. "Tigatron, Cheetor, stay put for now, I'll have a job for you when I get back," Optimus ordered. "Tigatron, fill Rattrap in on the situation. Predacons, come with me. I'll see to finding quarters for you."

"I wish to see Tarantulas first," said Megatron. "Perhaps I will find something you missed."

"Fine," said Optimus. "We'll go past the xenolab first. I'll have Rhinox scan you all as well. The wider a sample we have to work from, the better."

Dinobot insisted on coming along, just in case the Predacons suddenly recovered, or, more likely, to keep watch on Inferno. She had only been told to restrain herself until further orders, and while Megatron was himself in no shape to fight, he could very easily give further orders.

Blackarachnia, sitting cross-legged on the table that Tarantulas was lying on, looked up when they came in. "Megatron? You all look awful."

"Good morning to you, too," rumbled Megatron. "Move aside."

Optimus signalled Rhinox to see to Scorponok and the flyers, then went to the table, opposite Megatron. Inferno was still sticking to her leader like a big, red shadow, and Blackarachnia hovered nearby, refusing to be too far away from Tarantulas. The former was normal, the latter was not. As far as Optimus had been able to tell, Tarantulas and Blackarachnia hated each other.

Megatron took Tarantulas' face in his hands, carefully turning her head this way and that, looking for damages, then inspected her arms, since they were mostly bare except for some long, dark green ribbons tied around her upper arms. "There seem to be no bumps, dents, discolourations, or tears, but perhaps these are hidden by her clothes. Or her injury isn't visible. Many attacks cause unconsciousness but leave no mark. Null rays, surgers, EMP projectors, cybervenom …"

"You get one guess what Rhinox was being treated for in the CR chamber," Optimus snapped. He composed himself. "Those are all attacks to be used on robots, anyway. Would any of them affect what we are now?"

"Well, they _can't_ be good for us, no. Help me with her clothing. She may have some hidden injury that will shed some light on the matter. I trust my own senses more than a hastily recalibrated scanner at this moment, yes."

Blackarachnia appeared beside her leader, as if trying to block him. "Look, I'll do that."

"Looking for the softest spot to slip the knife into," Megatron murmured.

"I don't like her, but I know Tarantulas better than you do, and I know that if she has to be vulnerable and prodded at, she'd want me to be the one doing it," said Blackarachnia. "Besides, in the state you're in, you're not going to be real helpful."

"Blackarachnia, I would like to think that I know my own limits! –"

At that moment, he exceeded them. The shout became a wheeze and Megatron staggered, folding up in a coughing fit. Inferno caught him before he could collapse, then for some reason glared at Scorponok as if it was his fault. For his part, Scorponok ran over and helped Inferno get Megatron back upright. "He hasn't caught a break since this started. How d'you expect _me_ to stop him, Inferno?"

"Enough, both of you!" Megatron snarled, shaking them off.

Blackarachnia looked completely surprised – she had been goading him, but hadn't expected any reaction beyond being shouted at. Conversely, Terrorsaur and Waspinator seemed almost bored, as if they knew Megatron was due to fall over, or they just couldn't summon up the energy to care. Rhinox looked up and raised an eyebrow, but he was hard to startle. Dinobot had hissed, taken a step forward, then quickly subsided and forced himself to take on a neutral expression.

Megatron glared at everyone. "And you can all stop staring." He turned to Optimus. "Perhaps it _would_ be best if we proceeded to quarters. My crew _has_ had a rough day."

_He's embarrassed,_ thought Optimus, and even though the conclusion was obvious, it was still surprising because it involved Megatron. _Well, that explains why he agreed to the truce so easily – he's more damaged then he wants to let on, so he's not up for a fight. Suits me._

Rhinox approached them, holding up his scanner. "Megatron, you and the ones who came with you have lower levels of oxygen in your blood than the rest of us. That's probably causing some of your problems."

"What are we supposed to do, then?" sighed Megatron. "Breathe more?"

Rhinox ignored the sarcasm. "We can increase the oxygen level in your rooms and see if that helps. Don't start any fires." Inferno glared at him.

"Hmph. I knew that, yes." But the annoyance seemed to be self-directed.

Blackarachnia refused to leave the xenolab. Optimus and Dinobot managed to sort out the other five Predacons without incident but one. Megatron let himself be led to a set of empty quarters, but he turned back to the two Maximals. "One final bit of neighbourly information: I have deactivated the security system at our base. There was no point for it to be on – it's programmed to detect Transformers, not organics. But before I left, I deactivated the environmental controls. Good day." Inferno followed him in before the door closed.

Optimus and Dinobot started back to the command centre. Apparently unable to wait, Rattrap ambushed them in the hall. "Since we got Preds over, I wanted the opinion of our resident Predacon expert," he said. The way he emphasised his words, it was impossible to tell whether Rattrap meant 'our authority on Predacons' or 'our skilled Predacon'.

Dinobot didn't react, so either the former or he just wasn't in the mood to take the bait. Optimus looked back down at Rattrap. "Fire away."

"I'm gonna put this as delicately as I can," said Rattrap. "Ahem: Are you out of your slaggin' _mind_!?"

"If the Predacons are _here_, they're not over _there_ plotting against us."

"Oh, good, I was worried that you'd gone soft 'cause they got hurt. They can plot just as easily here, you know."

"The Golden Discs are at the Predacon base," said Optimus.

Rattrap stared at his leader a moment, then grinned. "One of which was made by the aliens and might have information on it that we could use. So if you can't keep the Discs out of the Preds' hands, you'll keep the Preds away from the Discs. And when they wanna go back to pick up equipment, heh, we'll be right there to help 'em."

"Megatron knows what you're up to," said Dinobot grimly. "Why do you think he turned off the climate controls in his base? He cannot reach the Discs, but neither can we unless he lets us."

"A stalemate is better than a loss." Optimus frowned, then looked up at Dinobot. "When Megatron collapsed, was that real or was it an attempt to lull us into a false sense of security?"

Dinobot considered that. "Real. And unless his skills at trickery have increased exponentially since we … parted ways, I would say that he has been honest with us. He cannot shut off his pain receptors. His damages distract him, inhibiting his ability to think clearly, and he lacks the energy to lie. But he will recover."

They re-entered the control room. Tigatron, Cheetor, and Airazor were in a little group by the monitors, but looked up when the others came in. "You said you had a job for us?" asked Cheetor, practically bouncing.

Optimus couldn't help smiling in the face of such obvious enthusiasm. "It's not that exciting, I'm afraid. Tigatron said she had an idea of where to find fuel for these forms. I want you to assist her."

Cheetor's eagerness wasn't damped in the least. "So what if it's not much? I want to see how fast I can go and I can't do that in here and you didn't let me before."

"Remember that you're not a robots any more," Optimus cautioned. "The local wildlife may think you're prey."

"We will take all due precautions." Tigatron nodded, signalled to Cheetor, and left.

Optimus looked over at his remaining crew. "Dinobot, Airazor, sort out monitor duty between yourselves. Rattrap and I still have work to do on the water pump."

Before Optimus could leave, Dinobot stopped him. "You seem to think you have everything sorted out, but what of the aliens?" demanded Dinobot. "What if they should attack again? We could not defend ourselves _before_, how are we supposed to _now_?"

"I don't know about that," said Optimus. "They could have killed us. They didn't. Maybe this was their way of neutralising us. More research is needed – I agree on that."

"What about the stasis pods?" asked Airazor. "If more come down, what'll come _out_ of them?"

Optimus nodded. "Good question. If the aliens changed them as well, they'll need our help." And at least one would need to be contained. _If there is a Primus and if his influence reaches this far, if the stasis pods were unaffected by the reformat, let us find our crew first so we have a chance …_

"Could the Predacons still reprogram them?" asked Dinobot.

"Dinobot, right now, the Predacons can't do _anything_."

* * *

Terrorsaur tapped the door intercom. "Waspinator? Open up." 

Her voice came through: "_What is secret password?"_

"Lemme in, you dope."

The door opened. Waspinator stuck her tongue out at him. "Lucky guess. What does terror-bot want?"

"I told you. In."

Waspinator stood back to let him pass, then went and sat down on the berth, feet crossed at the ankles. Terrorsaur paced for a few minutes, then suddenly turned on her. "Why in the Pit aren't you_worried_ about this?"

She shrugged. "Been shot by flying island. Been possessed by Starscream. Been blown up on regular basis. Waspinator does not find new bodies exciting."

"But we're completely organic!"

"Megatron will fix it," said Waspinator confidently. "Or Maximals will fix it and Megatron will steal the fix for Predacons."

Terrorsaur glared at her. "There's something disgusting about your cheerfulness."

The scout lay back on the berth and tucked her hands behind her head. "Waspinator has other reasons to be cheerful."

"Yeah?"

"Waspinator," she said in conspiratorial tones, "has _plans_."

There was no getting information out of Waspinator when she was in one of her moods. Her plan was probably nothing more exciting than borrowing his gloves anyway. "Be that way. And what's your room code?"

"Same as back in Predacon base. Easy for Waspinator to remember."

Of course. He should have tried that first. So much for giving Waspinator any credit. "How long do you think we're going to be staying here in the Maximal base?"

Waspinator shrugged awkwardly. "Next few hours at least. Maybe will find a way to get Predacons' base less hot and stinky later."

"It's half-sunk in lava and we already turned the environmental compensators to maximum. I don't think it's possible."

"Then Predacons stuck with Maximals. Yuck."

"Well, they're not allowed to shoot us now, right?"

Waspinator gave him a dark look. "And Terrorsaur says _Waspinator_ has bad memory. Terrorsaur not remember last truce."

"Okay, so they beat the slag out of us without weapons," said Terrorsaur. "But Megatron's got to have _some_ reason for going along with it …"

"Squawk, squawk, squawk," said Waspinator, then sat up to look at him. "Terrorsaur is stalling." She cocked her head. "Terror-bot is scared? Doesn't want to be alone?"

"Mmph." It was true enough, Terrorsaur could acknowledge. Regaining consciousness in a strange room was likely to throw him into panic fits until he remembered where he was. However, regaining consciousness in a strange room with someone he might not recognise as his wingmate … He considered that. He hadn't been teamed up with Waspinator long, but he'd know her anywhere. Better to have something familiar around. "Yeah, I'll stay. Safety in numbers in the enemy base and all."

Waspinator knew Terrorsaur's real reasons full well and made a razzing noise, but didn't argue with him.

* * *

"Okay, I got it hooked up. You wanna do the honours, boss?" said Rattrap, climbing up to perch on the edge of the currently open-topped tank that was just a little shorter than he was. Between the width of the hose and the strength of the pump, they realised it made more sense to build a reservoir than to just let the pump blast and flood the lower cargo bay. It was such a simple machine with such a simple purpose. Putting it all together had almost been relaxing. 

"All right. Get ready." Optimus tapped the controls that would open the valve and begin the suction.

The pump made dreadful gasping noises for nearly a minute before the air was completely forced out by the oncoming water, and the gasping became a splashing. Rattrap whooped from his perch. "Whaddya know – we got it right the first time … Hey, is that a fish? We caught a fish! Ha!"

Optimus shut off the pump. "We should have put a screen at the other end. And filters. Goodness knows what else is in the river."

Rattrap leaned down and swiped at the water. "Okay, fine, so it's not perfect. I'll whomp up a screen and attach it down at the bottom so's we don't catch any more fish. You or Rhinox can deal with filters. Are fish edible now? I never ate a fish before."

"What, never?"

"It was too much bother to try to catch 'em and Tigatron yelled at me when I suggested blasting 'em out of the water once … Oops, incoming firebug!"

Optimus turned and found himself looking up at Inferno, but not too far up. He was one of the few people she didn't loom over.

"Optimus Primal. I have been looking for you." Her tone was strained – she still saw him as an enemy, but Megatron had ordered her to obey the truce, so she would.

"Hello, Inferno. Why?"

The Predacon had left her long coat and her gloves somewhere, which left her arms bare. She held up one hand, the back discoloured by a burn. "The chemicals used for cleaning are incompatible with these forms. Change this."

Of course. The cleaning chemicals they used were designed to get rid of the organic muck they picked up from the planet outside, and now the Transformers counted as organic muck themselves. "I'm glad you thought of it before someone tried to take a shower," said Optimus. "I'm sorry about your hand."

Inferno ignored the apology. "Change this before the other Predacons awaken."

"Water seems harmless and we have easy access to it. Will that do?"

He gestured back at the tank. Inferno strode over, ignoring Rattrap, and reached down into the tank and splashed a bit. "I suppose it will have to," she said, shaking the water off her hand. "I expect the impurities to be dealt with."

"Nobody likes my fish," sighed Rattrap.

"There is visible detritus floating in it. This is _not_ hygienic." Inferno turned back to Optimus. "The scans your engineer took of everyone – how complete were they? Does the data include just the flesh or these outer coverings as well?"

Caught by brief surprise at the sudden change of topic, Optimus took several seconds to answer. "They were complete, clothing included."

"Have they been uploaded to the main computer?"

"Yes."

The Predacon nodded. "I require access to your replicator."

When Optimus hesitated, Inferno frowned. "The Royalty told me to make myself useful. My nestmates are in an absolutely disgraceful condition. I cannot fight what harmed them, I cannot repair their injuries, but I _can_ see to it that they are clean and tended to."

Optimus and Rattrap exchanged glances, then Optimus turned back to Inferno. "I'll take you up to the control room."

When they arrived, Airazor was the only one left in attendance. She looked askance at Inferno, but turned back to fiddling with the monitors when Optimus signalled it was all right. If Inferno noticed, she didn't seem to care.

Optimus told Sentinel that Inferno was allowed to use the replicator until further notice, then pointed out the interface. Inferno took on a challenger's stance, as if she was going to fight the computer and not just talk to it. "Computer!"

"It's called 'Sentinel'," said Optimus.

Inferno nodded, then looked up again. "Sentinel! Access the data from the scans taken from Predacon units Megatron, Scorponok, Terrorsaur, and Waspinator."

"_Accessed."_

"Disregard the organic data – I am only interested in their outer coverings, everything that is not a part of their bodies. Do this."

"_Acknowledged."_

"Now remove any trace or particles that would have come from volcanic gases. Scan my outer coverings and the others in this room if a baseline is required."

The Predacon didn't seem to need any help. Optimus drifted over to Airazor. "What are you working on?"

She tapped a couple keys, then looked up at him. "I'm trying to re-establish contact with the stasis pods. I worried what the energy wave might have done to their systems, but right now I can't detect them at all."

"Keep trying. Where did Dinobot go?"

"He said he was going to go back to his room to Contemplate the Situation," said Airazor. "His words. His emphasis, too."

"He's off on a sulk."

"Yep." Airazor leaned over and dropped her voice. "Why are you letting _Inferno_ of all people have access to the computer?"

"All she's after is clean clothing for her comrades," said Optimus. "She's concerned about them. All I'd ever seen her do before was laugh and set things on fire. Seeing her protective is interesting."

"You know … she _does_ have a Maximal spark …"

"Her and Blackarachnia." Optimus shook his head. "I don't know. I can hope, but … they're reprogrammed. They're gone."

Airazor turned, resting her arm on the back of the chair and her chin on her hand, watching Inferno. "Remember, though – the person who abandoned me to go sulk has Predacon programming _and_ a Predacon spark, and he chose Maximal."

* * *

Inferno had vanished with her arms full of synthetic fabric, only to reappear later behind Rattrap, demanding to know how the showers were coming along. Rattrap must have talked a good game, because when Optimus went to check up on him a few megacycles later, Inferno was holding up a pipe so that Rattrap could weld it. "It's nice to see you two getting along." 

Maximal and Predacon turned to him with identical expressions of disgust. "She wanted it done fast. I told her it'd go faster if she helped," said Rattrap. Inferno nodded agreement. "You hook up the filters and stuff you wanted?"

"The screen, too, since you were busy in here. How's this coming?"

Rattrap wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and left a smear of grease. "That's about the last of it, actually. I mean, all we really had to do was disconnect the showers from the chemical cleaners tank and hook 'em up to the water tank. I'll run it full-blast for a while to flush all the chemicals outta the system first, though."

Optimus checked up on Rhinox and Blackarachnia in the xenolab, but they didn't have anything new to report, so he headed back up to the control room. He might have been covering the length of the ship, but it was pacing and he knew it. Well, he was worried about everyone and wanted to check up on them. The sensors couldn't tell them apart, there weren't cameras everywhere, and he knew that calls through the intercom every few minutes wouldn't make him popular.

He briefly envied the injured Predacons – Optimus hadn't caught a break since the day before and now it was late morning. However, whenever he tried to rest, he found he'd just get up a minute later and check on things. _Maybe once things have settled a bit, I'll be able to relax._

Rattrap hadn't been exaggerating about nearly being finished with the pipes – he beat Optimus back to the control room. Dinobot had apparently grown bored of his own company and was up there as well. He was engaged in a quiet if earnest conversation with Sentinel about something – trying to design a sword suited for his new form, it sounded like. The room was brighter than normal, and Optimus looked up to find the roof hatch open, with Airazor's feet dangling over the edge. "Airazor!"

She leaned down to look at him. "I was checking the space scanner array for damage. It looks fine. Now I'm on break."

Airazor looked away suddenly as if called, waved, then swung down a cable back into the control room. "Tigatron and Cheetor are back."

Tigatron and Cheetor arrived on the lift several minutes later, a small loader drone between them. "Now that the sun's up, it's hot out there like whoa," said Cheetor. "I guess it was always like that, I just never noticed. I can't even imagine what it'd be like in the Pred base if _outside_ is bad enough."

Tigatron nodded. "I rather wonder why we have clothing at all. It seems impractical."

"You'd look like Inferno without it," said Airazor.

"Did you have any trouble?" asked Optimus.

Tigatron shook her head. "Very little. Perhaps the scent of the drone kept predators away, perhaps there were simply none around. It did take the gorillas longer than usual to notice us as we observed them. Whatever we smell like now is either not as strong as it was or simply blends better than the scent of our original bodies did."

"We brought fruits. It seemed easiest," said Cheetor, parking the drone next to the table.

Rattrap picked through the loader. "There's no wild bean vines in here, is there? Those things did a number on Rhinox when he was a_robot_. They'd probably make us explode now."

"This was stuff off a tree," said Cheetor. "Relax."

Dinobot picked up one of the yellowish fruits with red markings and eyed it warily. "You are certain this isn't going to kill us? We may have completely incompatible body chemistry."

"What would the point of that be? If the aliens could transmute us, they could have more easily destroyed us. Why transmute us only to have us die of fuel loss? Besides, we are unharmed after an hour," said Tigatron, which gave Optimus a brief scientific horror that she had tested it on herself. It would make perfect, logical sense in Tigatron's mind to do it that way, he knew. "In fact, I do feel better now than I did before. But do not expect immediate effects. Our current systems do not seem to convert matter to useable energy very fast."

"We're all gonna die," said Rattrap, fishing out a fruit of his own, "but I'd rather go out with a full tank."

He took a bite, then immediately spat it out. "Stripes! Why didn't you _warn_ me?"

Tigatron raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Our senses! I've eaten these things before – they never tasted like anything! The thing's practically an overload now!"

Dinobot looked disgusted. "So of all our senses, most muted, some lost completely, the one that got _enhanced_ was _taste_? Are organics supposed to perceive their universe by _licking_ it?"

Tigatron and Rattrap were still arguing. "You dislike it?" The tracker was smiling faintly – she'd known what the reaction would be and was enjoying it. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Tigatron had a sense of humour, though this little practical joke was more Cheetor's style. He'd probably put her up to it, and seeing it harmless, Tigatron went along with it.

Rattrap wagged a finger at her. "I never said _that_. It just caught me by surprise is all."

It seemed safe enough and other options weren't presenting themselves. Optimus selected one of the yellowish spheres and took a bite. Transformers did have a sense of taste – different grades of fuel, different additives … a bartender could become famous for his drinks. There were even Cybertronian confectioners who made a living carefully balancing chemicals into little bites of ecstasy.

The lesser ones would have thrown away their tools in despair if they could have experienced that first bite. The better ones would scramble to duplicate the effect. He wasn't sure if he liked the flavour yet, but it was certainly intense.

He nodded to Tigatron. "We'd just assumed that all our senses had been dulled. It's nice to have a pleasant surprise after the unpleasant one we got from the aliens."

Tigatron's expression flickered briefly – anger? Disapproval? Annoyance? – but settled to a neutral, businesslike one too quickly for him to read. "This isn't a balanced diet. We wear the forms of omnivores, not herbivores. More research will be required."

"This will hold us for now. It seems like we're going to have to get into a detailed study of this planet sooner than we expected."

"And without our right crew," said Rattrap. "We're mostly just here to fly the ship. The specialists are all still takin' pod-naps."

"We know enough for a start."

_To be continued …_

* * *

Notes: Answers to the questions you are asking: 

Yes, the idea of Transformers-as-Humans is overdone. I started this for a contest back in December 2002, didn't win, and decided to keep working on it anyway.

Blah, blah, gender-swaps, blah. As stated in the story, it's based on the gender of the beast-modes ( from the cartoon. Distinction made because Tarantulas' cartoon model is female while his toy is male, offhand. ) In cases where I couldn't tell, I used the pronoun they used in the show. Basically, this was done because I see Transformers as asexual and had to sort out human genders somehow. Also, Inferno makes a nice Amazon.

Technically, they should all have appeared naked since they were naked as robots, but I'd be tempted to deal more with bodily functions if they were naked, and I don't think anybody really wants to read the Casual Urination Scene. Besides, they'd get sore feet if I took away their boots.

_Other Vengeance 2.0_ starts partway through _Aftermath_, then runs off in another direction.

No, don't ask when the next part will be out.


	4. A Question of Identity: Part 1

_Notes: There is now an FAQ on my profile page, because people always seem to ask the same questions. Or e-mail me. My address is on my web page, my page can be reached through my profile._

_Edited for punctuation - this place doesn't recognise some of my autoformatted characters_

* * *

His mind was full of static. Words and ideas flickered through his consciousness, rendered meaningless by a lack of context. He had a sensation of _self_ and of _body_, and wasn't quite sure what to make of either.

There was light blazing down from above and the sky was blue. He reached out and touched it. It was smooth and cool and slightly concave. Around him was metal. He held his hands up, inspecting them. There were only two, and their shape was within the parameters that he thought of as 'hand'. _As different from what?_ he wondered, but the only answer was static.

He was lying on something soft. Putting his hands down, he could feel the softness against his palms and partway up his arms; and while the rest of his arms could feel the soft, it couldn't feel the fluttery, tickly texture of it.

Then he stopped wondering about it because there was an explosive hiss and the sky moved because it wasn't the sky - he was lying in a large container. There was still light and the sky was still blue, and he realised that he had been looking through some kind of transparency.

He cautiously sat up - the softness came with him, it was fastened to him somehow, little banners of gold-edged brown all tied together and hanging down his back - and found he could see over the side of the container. Everything was dry, dry, hot and brown and dry as far as his sight could reach. Twisted forms jutted up from the ground, casting areas of shadow. Nearby was another metal container, twin to his own, open. He ran his hands over the rim of his container - _no, not container - pod. Stasis pod,_ - curious as to why he found comfort in the unyielding metal.

"Heh. Finally."

The sound - the _voice_ - startled him, and he cast about, searching for its source. He found his own voice, and words: "Who is there? Who are you?" The words were ... automatic? Expected? Tradition?

A figure detached itself from the shadow of a twisted structure-growth and the world was divided into Self and Other. The other flicked a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. "Couldn't tell you, partner."

"You do not know who you are, either?"

"Didn't I say that?"

He looked at the other, searching vainly for a trace of familiarity. "Did you come out of that stasis pod?" he asked, pointing.

The other glanced back. "Yeah. Not long ago. Few cycles, I reckon. Saw you in the other and was waitin' for you to wake up."

They were both from the pods. It didn't matter that he didn't recognise the other - they were kin or colleagues or otherwise belonging together. The other had even called him 'partner.' He swung himself over the rim of his stasis pod and landed on the dusty ground, putting abrupt pressure on his feet. His body balanced itself, smoothly and automatically, and he was pleased. Unfamiliar as his body was, it seemed to be a good one.

He shifted his attention outward. "It cannot be right that we do not know who we are or why we are here. Something must have gone wrong. I think we should try to create a signal."

The other made a derisive noise. "How?"

"Well ..." He looked at the pods. They were broken - smashed and crumpled and, as he watched, the lights in them faded. He knew that he wouldn't be able to repair them. "Perhaps they signalled before they shut off completely."

"Y'know what I think?"

The other was looking at him carefully, sizing him up. "What?"

The other grinned. "I think I could take you."

He blinked. "You could _what_?"

"I bet I could beat you in a fight! Let's go!"

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
A Question of Identity - part one **

"Why won't you let me tell them?" asked Blackarachnia irritably. "They want you awake. They'll help me find a way to get you back into your body."

_Heh, you're so cute,_ said Tarantulas. _They don't need me back in my body if I'm wearing yours, and it's one less Predacon to deal with._

"They're _Maximals_," sighed Blackarachnia. "They don't do that."

_So I'm cynical. And if not Maximals, Megatron._

Blackarachnia decided that she had taken the worst of things in the last eight megacycles. Everyone was trapped in flesh-forms, sure, but Blackarachnia was the only one with a passenger in her head. _And that's what you get for trying to steal my research,_ said Tarantulas, whose physical body was lying unconscious on the table in the Maximals' xenobiology lab.

They were alone, which still surprised Blackarachnia when the thought occurred to her. She had been left alone, unsupervised, in one of the _Axalon's_ laboratories. If she were a Maximal, _she_ certainly wouldn't be so trusting, especially not of someone like her. There was a security camera at least, but she could sabotage that in seconds if she felt like it. And, yes, the Maximals were all busy trying to figure out how to keep these flesh-forms functioning, but it annoyed Blackarachnia that she was classed as non-dangerous enough to ignore.

She took it out on Tarantulas. "If you hadn't put that weird booby-trap into your file transfer gear, we wouldn't have this problem!"

_You know I put traps in everything,_ said Tarantulas. _Anyway, I only downloaded my mind into your pretty little head, not my spark. The transfer procedure to put me back in my own body should be easy enough ... Er ..._

It _should_ be an easy procedure ... and _would_ be for a couple of robots. "Our thoughts are still just electrical impulses, right?"

Tarantulas hummed a bit. _Seem to be. So _maybe_ we could alter the file transfer equipment so that it works with these bodies. It _will_ be a delicate job, though. I doubt these forms can take much current._

Blackarachnia set her jaw and glared at the form on the table. "I don't mind dying if I get to take you with me."

_You're so sweet. Now be a dear and let's go see if the transfer equipment is still lying where you dropped it._

* * *

They'd checked the readings, double-checked their scanners, and came to one conclusion - they couldn't detect the stasis pods in orbit because the alien energy wave had knocked them all down. That had set the Maximals on a scramble to cut through the leftover radiation and the usual energon interference to try to locate any tracking beacons on the ground.

Their scanners couldn't reach very far, but they did detect a pod about ten kilometres away. Rhinox had set off with Dinobot and Tigatron in tow to retrieve it. Optimus, Rattrap, and Airazor kept working on increasing the range of the scanners.

The alarm went off, and a screech: "Are the aliens attacking again?"

Optimus shut off the alarm and looked back into a face he usually only saw framed by shoulder-cannons. Terrorsaur stood just inside the open door to the control room, startled by the sudden noise and looking ready to bolt.

"We got two more pods," Rattrap announced. "They're practically on top of each other. Looks like Pred territory."

"Rattrap, Airazor, get a fix on their position," said Optimus. He made a decision, then crossed the room to the Predacon. "Terrorsaur, come with me."

"I didn't even _do_ anything," the air warrior protested, but followed him deeper into the ship.

_'Be strong with them,' Dinobot had said. 'Show weakness and they will rip you apart.'_ He and Dinobot had differing ideas on what constituted as 'strong'. He decided to use his own definitions and just be as himself as possible. Besides, Terrorsaur didn't look like he could fight anything right now.

The Predacon seemed more alert than he had eight megacycles ago and had regained some life to his movements instead of just shuffling along, but he managed to look worse. The burns on his face were no longer reddish and wet-looking, but sort of puffed and yellowish. _Is that supposed to happen? Is this part of the organic healing process or is it an indication of some worse problem?_ After a moment, Optimus realised why Terrorsaur looked particularly scraggly - his hair had lost its bright tint and was plastered thickly down his back because it was dripping wet. His clothing was damp, though not soaked except where his hair lay on it, and the lava stench was gone. "You found the showers, I take it."

The Predacon made a sound halfway between a derisive snort and a laugh. "I had them pointed out to me. Where are you taking me?"

"Xenobotany lab. We've got -"

There was a sudden shriek, baffled and muted by walls and corridors. Optimus was about to break into a run when Terrorsaur stopped him. "Don't bother. It's just Waspinator."

Optimus stared at him. "She's your partner!"

"That was an indignant scream, not a scared scream," said Terrorsaur. "That probably means Inferno grabbed her."

"Why would Inferno ..."

"Inferno's got a thing about cleaning. I don't know if it's an ant thing or just the way she is. I got two steps down the hall before I was grabbed and marched to the showers. 'Remove your outer covering or I will remove it for you' is _not_ something I'd ever expected to hear outside a party ... Mph. Where did she get new clothes for us from?" The last sentence was said quickly, slightly louder, as if trying to erase the one that came before.

"She asked to use the replicator. I let her."

"You what?" Terrorsaur blinked at him. "Pit, you're serious about this truce thing."

"I am." They reached the xenobotany lab and went inside. It was a bit unusual to have a distinction between xenobiology and xenobotany, but both he and Rhinox liked plants so space was made. "I figure you could probably use a refuelling."

Dead silence, and Optimus realised that the Predacon hadn't heard an offer, but a threat. _Well, maybe a Predacon sees an opportunity for interrogation, but I don't._ There were two loader drone drums sitting next to the table. Optimus reached into the uncovered one and tossed the Predacon one of the yellowish fruits from the day before.

Terrorsaur caught it and frowned. "Plants?"

"These forms are omnivorous," said Optimus. "We know that type is safe. I'm trying to determine what else is."

Fuel in hand, Terrorsaur seemed to relax a bit. "Are any of the other Predacons up yet?"

"Blackarachnia is. Tarantulas is still unconscious. Scorponok demanded several sheets of packing foam and vanished again. Megatron's still sleeping as far as I know."

Terrorsaur sniffed at the fruit and made a face. Optimus shrugged. "Our sense of taste has been enhanced. Greatly. Just so you're not surprised."

"I think I can handle flavour," said the Predacon haughtily, but took a small, cautious bite. He swallowed, then winced.

Optimus bit back the automatic, _I warned you._ Terrorsaur hadn't reacted to the flavour, but to the act of swallowing. _Right. The Predacons who were at their base inhaled superheated air and have burns in their throats. Blast._ "Wait a minute." He found a medium-sized beaker, opened the covered container, then dipped the beaker into it to fill with water before handing it to the air warrior. "Drink this first."

Terrorsaur sighed and set the fruit on the desk to take the beaker in both hands. "I suppose you'll be in trouble if I wind up dead." Still wary after the pain caused by swallowing something solid, he took a very small sip of the water. He finished the rest quickly, wavered for a second between pride and need, then gave Optimus a 'just _try_ to stop me, Maximal' glare and refilled the beaker for himself.

_'Set them tasks as soon as possible,' Dinobot had said. 'They will be angry that you presume to give them orders, but tell them to just sit around while the Maximals do everything and they will hate you. Predacons will steal or earn, but they do not accept gifts.'_ Terrorsaur was treacherous, but not particularly bright. Either Optimus or Rattrap could handle him. "Are you up to going on a mission? We need to collect those two stasis pods we detected."

"I know all those words, but they make no sense in that order." Terrorsaur arched an eyebrow. "_You_ just asked _me_ to go recover a couple of stasis pods, after spending a year chasing me away from them."

"Look, you wouldn't be going alone, we're currently in a truce, I'm getting short-staffed, and I'm willing to bet that you don't know how to reprogram a protoform even if you had a modifier chip on you," said Optimus. "Can you do it or not?"

The air warrior shook his head. "I'm feeling better, but not that much better. I got up for information and fuel, and now I want to go back into recharge. Whatever self-repair systems we've got now are lousy." He got up, then paused. "I ... don't suppose there'd be a mirror anywhere on this ship?"

There were reflective panels for radar dishes and other purposes down in the cargo bay, so he led the Predacon there and gave him one of the small one of thirty by fifty centimetres. Terrorsaur spent a long moment regarding his reflection before he closed his eyes, and Optimus wished he'd looked away. The Predacon didn't look disgusted or angry - for a second his expression was one of such open and total loss that Optimus felt like he was intruding just to have seen it.

He felt he had to say something. "You'll heal."

"It doesn't matter." Terrorsaur opened his eyes again, but didn't look at Optimus. "I'm ... I'm going to go back into recharge. I know the way." He took the mirror with him.

Overall, the exchange had gone better than Optimus had expected, but it still left him with a problem. He was telling the truth about being short-staffed - Cheetor had left a megacycle ago, off doing fieldwork and collecting plant samples for Optimus. There was no telling when he would return. Rhinox, Dinobot, and Tigatron would only be halfway to the first pod by now, and even then, Dinobot and Tigatron planned to go hunting afterwards. That left just himself, Rattrap, and Airazor, and while he didn't want to send anyone chasing pods alone, neither did he want to leave anyone alone in a base full of Predacons.

Which meant the only other option was to send a Predacon.

If Terrorsaur was still in rough condition, it meant that Megatron, Waspinator, and Scorponok weren't going to be up to much activity, either. That left Blackarachnia, who refused to leave Tarantulas' side, and ...

_Inferno. Well, why not? She's been cooperative so far._ And, because he was honest, added, _Because Megatron ordered her to be cooperative._

He knew where she was last, anyway. Optimus went up to find the showers.

The showers were off, the pipes were silent, but there were still muffled voices through the door: _"No, Waspinator does _not_ know how clothing goes back on. Ant-bot _took_ Waspinator's outer coverings. Waspinator did not get to find out for herself how clothing works!"_

_"Minor! Useless little insect!"_

_"Hnh! If ant-bot so smart, ant-bot can put Waspinator back together again."_

Optimus opened the door. The room was still wet, and the two Predacons were near the centre of it. The height difference wasn't quite as extreme as it had been when they were robots, but Inferno still could have used Waspinator as a chinrest. The scout's clothing was a green and yellow bundle in Inferno's arms - Waspinator was clad only in water and indignation. She had wide, dark brown stripes on her legs, mimicking the ones she had as a wasp robot. Her back was to him and she seemed to be in better condition than Terrorsaur had been, but it might have just been anger lending her energy and the fact that he couldn't see her burns from where he stood.

"Ant-bot _grabs_ poor Waspinator, _drags_ her down the hall, takes her _apart_, tries to _drown_ ..."

"Silence!" Inferno glared over Waspinator's head at him. "What do you want, Maximal?"

"I don't suppose you two need any help?"

Waspinator snatched the bundle of synth-fabric away from Inferno. "Bah. Maximals never helped Waspinator before. Probably end up in even _more_ pieces ..." With that, she stomped out, muttering to herself.

Inferno huffed, started to march out, and stopped short of walking into Optimus, who had stepped into the doorway. "Move."

He stepped aside. "I've got a job for you. It's a big one, though."

The Predacon warrior froze, visibly caught between _How dare this _Maximal_ order _me_?_ and _Megatron ordered me to make myself useful._ "What is it?"

"Stasis pod retrieval."

Inferno's expression relaxed somewhat and she stepped past the Maximal. "Impossible. I must remain near the Royalty."

_Time to appeal to a higher court._ "I'll ask him what he thinks, then," said Optimus, and started towards Megatron's room.

As expected, Inferno followed him. Once there, Optimus tapped the door chime, and when there was no answer for a long moment, he felt a brief panic - _Did Megatron slip out without us noticing? He could be up to anything!_ - but the door opened and Megatron glared down at him.

Megatron hadn't had a chance to get cleaned up, and didn't seem to be quite up to it yet. He leaned heavily on the doorframe. "This had better be important on the level of 'the aliens are sitting on the roof,' Primal," he rasped. Hearing the damage to their throats hadn't been as noticeable in the other two - Terrorsaur always had a scraping voice and Waspinator still had her burble though she'd lost her croon - but from the normally smooth-voiced Megatron, the difference was striking.

"I need to put together a stasis pod retrieval team," said the Maximal. "I hoped to borrow Inferno."

He glanced over at Inferno, then back down to Optimus. "But, Optimus, if I'm unwell and you're insane, who will lead?"

_He can't shoot me, but he can still snark me. Great._ "Just yes or no and you can go back to sleep."

"Fine." Megatron sighed, then: "Inferno!"

Inferno snapped to attention. "Yes, Royalty?"

"You will assist the Maximals in the retrieval of their stasis pod."

"But, Royalty, I must remain here so I may tend to you."

"Inferno, I've got the others here. Retrieving the pod is important. You will go."

She hesitated for a second, then saluted as if to make up for not immediately acquiescing. "Yes, Royalty."

Which seemed to settle it. Inferno followed Optimus up to the control room, where Airazor was reading a map on a screen and Rattrap was tinkering with another console. He looked over when he heard the door open, then set down his tools and ambled over to Optimus. "What's up?"

"I found a partner for the pod retrieval mission."

Rattrap looked past Optimus at the Predacon warrior hanging back by the door. "Not her."

"Her." He looked back. "Inferno, could you check over the maps with Airazor? The pods are in Predacon territory and we don't know the area that well." Inferno nodded curtly and went across the room to go loom over Airazor. "Rattrap?"

"Yeah?"

"If I was at a party and I was ordered to remove my outer armour," said Optimus, "what kind of party would I be at?"

Rattrap blinked at him. "Ordered like it's your job or ordered like forced against your will?"

"Forced, I think."

"Parts party, then. It's kind of like a slating, but less extreme." When Optimus still looked confused, Rattrap continued. "Slating you get taken apart completely and rebuilt. Parts party you just get your outer plating ripped off and remoulded. They started doing it when slating was declared illegal after the Great War."

"'They' who?"

"Sculptors and shell designers, mostly. It's like a party game for sociopathic artists. Why?"

Optimus shook his head. "Just something I heard once. I'll go retrieve the pods if you don't want to."

"No, no, you gotta stay here. Remind the Preds who's in charge of the ship. Which means I've just been set up with Megatron's favourite weapon!" Rattrap sighed. "How long have you hated me?"

"You seemed to be getting along with her earlier."

"'Angled into doin' my heavy lifting' ain't the same as 'getting along'."

The Maximal leader glanced up, assuring himself that Airazor and Inferno were absorbed in their maps, and dropped his voice. "If possible, I want new stasis pods to be checked by you, me, or Rhinox, and I want us to have back-up. You know why."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be glad of havin' the firebug behind me if it comes to that," Rattrap admitted. "Why can't I wait for Rhinox or Cheetor to get back?"

"If the protoforms were changed like us, they'll need help as soon as possible, and I don't know when the others will return. If the protoforms can be safely left in stasis, leave them."

"Gotcha," said Rattrap. "I'll go put back the bits I took outta the Preds' hoversled."

Optimus blinked. "Why did you do that?"

"So's they couldn't sneak off with it." Rattrap went and vanished down the lift.

_Such a trusting group we are,_ thought Optimus, but couldn't really blame Rattrap for his caution. Which brought him to his next problem: _I never, ever thought I'd be doing this, but we don't know if the change affected the unopened pods and I might be sending Rattrap into terrible danger just to go look at them ... By the Matrix, I have to arm _Inferno_._

Optimus considered the Predacon warrior. Treachery was unlikely - Megatron had emphasised that the pods were to be brought back for the Maximals, so Inferno would bring back the pods for the Maximals. Rattrap would be in no danger, at least not from Inferno. He pulled down the weapons rack with difficulty, selected a laser rifle, and called her over. Like most of them, Inferno's weapon had been part of her body, and it simply vanished in the change.

Inferno inspected the gun, then handed it back. "If you wish me to be my most effective, you will allow me the weapon I am most proficient with."

"We haven't got one. Besides, it's too dangerous."

"It is a _flamethrower_. That is the _point_."

In the end, he let her take a heat-beam cannon as a compromise - it was tidier than a flamethrower and less likely to set the landscape on fire. She eyed the weapon with distaste - it was a mid-sized gun, which meant it was almost too large for her current body, but was far smaller than the weapon she was used to. "It will have to do."

"Good. Come on. You and Rattrap will be gone for at least four megacycles, so you'll probably need some supplies ..."

* * *

He'd found a mirror. Waspinator was entirely unsurprised.

He'd propped it up on a shelf. Terrorsaur didn't turn around when the door opened, so either he was ignoring her or just hypnotised by his own face. Waspinator announced: "Waspinator is broken again!"

Terrorsaur glanced up to see her in the reflection. "Is the door chime not working?"

"Don't know. Waspinator didn't try it."

He finally turned around. "You've still got all your limbs. What're you complaining about?"

The scout held out the bundle of fabric. "Inferno took Waspinator apart. Waspinator not sure how to get back together again."

"You idiot. You struggled instead of just going along with Inferno, didn't you?" asked Terrorsaur. "Anyway, you might not want to put it back on until you've dried off. The stuff clings and rubs when it's wet."

"Waspinator _already_ missing bits," said Waspinator, feeling her back twitch trying to buzz wings that weren't there. "Waspinator wants to be as complete as possible."

Terrorsaur shrugged. "Your choice. Come here." Terrorsaur was used to putting Waspinator's pieces back together. Clothing was just a variation of a theme and Waspinator was pulled together in less than a minute. "You think you can do that for yourself next time?"

"Maybe," Waspinator admitted, straightening her long coat. She considered her gloves for a moment, then took them off and stuffed them into a pocket. "What's terror-bot up to?"

"Terror-bot is having horrible thoughts of what his creator would say if he could see what kind of body terror-bot had landed himself in now," said Terrorsaur, who was back at his mirror. "Optimus says the damages will heal, but ... it won't be my face any more."

He wanted sympathy and someone to mope at and the reassurance that he was pretty. Waspinator made a rude noise at him. "Terror-bot still recognisable. Terror-bot want to talk about having wrong face, terror-bot can tell Waspinator where her mandibles are!"

"Pfeh. Big loss on you!"

"Waspinator was very handsome mech!"

"_Waspinator has ..._" Terrorsaur's shout was cut off by coughing. He rubbed at his throat and lowered his voice. "Waspinator has low standards." His jacket was lying on the berth and the red and gray shirt he wore left him bare to the shoulders. Terrorsaur scowled at his hands. "I look like something you'd find under a rock."

Leave it to Terrorsaur to turn the conversation back to himself. "Terror-bot looks like the rest of us," said Waspinator.

He looked up again. "Think colours, Waspy. Scorponok and Airazor are pretty light, but I'm so pale I'm see-through. It's revolting. I look like some kind of meat-based Customiser. You're lucky - you're dark enough to look solid."

Waspinator walked over and inspected him with a critical gaze, then laughed. Laughing hurt her throat, but she didn't let that stop her. "Terror-bot is all speckly!"

"What?"

"Terror-bot has speckles like he used to have, only speckles are tiny now," said Waspinator, taking Terrorsaur by the shoulder and turning him a bit, pointing out in the mirror how his freckles ran partway down his arms. "So terror-bot is not _all_ pale."

"Speckles don't count." He held up his hands, backs to her. "Look at this," Terrorsaur demanded. "You can see the ... what are these? Fuel conduits? Coolant lines? You can see them right through the skin. And skin is supposed to be what's keeping everything _inside_ me? By the Pit, how can anything _live_ like this?"

Waspinator shrugged. "Dunno. Critters seem to."

"Critters open right up and spill out with the slightest scratch. Critters pop and splatter when dropped. Critters are flimsy bags of liquid. I thought these coverings were stupid this morning. Now I'm glad we have them. Anything is an improvement over skin." He grabbed his jacket and pulled it back on, then stopped suddenly. "You fuelled yet?"

"No."

"You'd forget your own name if I didn't tell you what it was. C'mon, Waspinator."


	5. A Question of Identity: Part 2

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
A Question of Identity - part two **

They were the best hunter-trackers of the Maximals. Unfortunately, they had completely opposite views on the change they had gone through.

A loader drone followed them at a short distance, still within sight - Dinobot trusted that it would follow the control he carried in his pocket, but not that it wouldn't get stuck in the undergrowth of the jungle. Dinobot had a new sword, weighted and balanced for his new form. It no longer rotated, but it made him feel almost complete. He also had a small laser - too small to fight a Transformer, but more than sufficient to take down organic prey. It was a bit cheating, but he couldn't be certain of his physical limits in his new body. Also, it made up for Tigatron.

Tigatron carried no equipment. She was also naked except for the band that tied her hair back. It made her look odd - the uniform colour said 'beast-mode' but the overall shape said 'robot-mode'. _And why,_ Dinobot wondered idly, _is that uniform colour brown?_ Tigatron was a shade or two lighter than himself, with dark brown stripes across her back and arms, but he would have thought that white with black stripes would have made more sense. _Bah. This whole situation is ridiculous._

They had been arguing the point of equipment off and on for the last half hour. "Other animals have teeth and claws," Dinobot said. "The advantages of this species seem to be a proportionally large brain and high manual dexterity. We are _meant_ to be tool-users."

"We are a part of this world now," countered Tigatron, snapping a branch at him. "We must learn to live as the native species live."

"The aliens could have destroyed our equipment as easily as they changed us. They even _gave_ us equipment we never had before - clothing. There is no _must_." He shook his head. "Tigatron, you are strong. You are a skilled warrior. I know that you are a better tracker than I, and that you are in your element. But I do not think you can kill with your bare hands. The spark is willing, but the metal ... is merely flesh. You are not strong _enough_."

Tigatron didn't answer him. Dinobot decided it had been a rather strange day for weapons. Rhinox had been far more heavily armed than they were, and all he was doing was retrieving a stasis pod. Optimus had even urged Dinobot and Tigatron to carry larger weapons, but the warriors had baulked - they didn't want to weigh themselves down with unnecessary equipment.

_Perhaps it was nothing more than habit,_ thought Dinobot. _They've grown so used to the Predacons attacking that they cannot quite believe that, at least for a little while, the Predacons are out of the equation. That might also be why Rhinox seemed relieved when we reached the pod without incident. He relaxed as soon as he saw it._

"This form suits you."

Dinobot blinked, startled out of his thoughts, then glared when he realised Tigatron had been watching him. "What?"

The tracker shrugged. "You always seemed more comfortable as a velociraptor than as a robot."

"I wouldn't have minded so much if I was trapped in the form of a velociraptor," said Dinobot. He swatted at some biting insect that landed on his arm. Either they were leaving Tigatron alone or she was ignoring them, but the bugs were driving him crazy. "At least then I wouldn't be _soft_."

"You prefer teeth and claws to manual dexterity?"

"_What_ manual dexterity? How does anyone _function_ with only two thumbs?" Dinobot bared his teeth. "_You_ would prefer teeth and claws."

"True," Tigatron admitted. "If given a choice, I would have been a tiger, but I do not see these current forms as inferior. Merely different." She flexed a hand idly, looking at it as if she'd never seen it before. "Something is worrying me, though."

"Only _one_ thing?"

Tigatron ignored the remark. "Perhaps it will help to talk it through with someone. Even you recognised that these bodies are quite complex - the dexterous hands, the proportionally large brains. Tool users."

"Yes."

"But we all look quite different."

Dinobot blinked at her. "We all look practically the same. If we all decided to remove our clothing, we would never be able to tell each other apart. Perhaps if we still had energy signatures ..."

"Why do we even _have_ clothing?" demanded Tigatron, then shook her head. "I'll return to that. But back to identification of individuals - not in Cybertronian terms. Compared to the other animals you've seen."

Dinobot considered that. While the differences between them weren't as great as they had been as robots, his complaints that they all looked the same were exaggeration. They still had different sizes and builds - compare Rattrap's small wiriness with Megatron's looming bulk. Even ignoring clothes, there was still a range of colours, from Terrorsaur's barely-tinted skin and red hair to, again, Megatron, whose skin was only a few shades lighter than his black hair. Whereas animals ... All cheetahs may as well be one cheetah, all rats, all ants, all gorillas, all wasps, all anything. There were likely individual differences, but nothing he would be able to tell without a detailed examination. "Granted. Continue."

"Whatever species we are, we're adapted for this planet, but not all to this specific biome," said Tigatron. "Otherwise we _would_ all look the same, or closer to. Instead, we're adapted to different climates. Whatever species we are, it's _global_. It took its tool-using self and spread all over the planet, and it did it long enough ago that there were local adaptations. And clothing - it must be something to do with the species we are now. We never had any before, so it can't have come from us."

"I can follow that," said Dinobot slowly, "but I fail to see why you find it worrisome."

"Don't you understand, Dinobot? _Where are they?_"

Silence again, as Dinobot had no answer and Tigatron had picked up a trail. He stopped the loader drone so that it wouldn't frighten off whatever Tigatron had found. He had no worry that they wouldn't be able to find it again. The trail led them to a small stream, and Tigatron signalled that they should wait. While perfectly capable of waiting, Dinobot preferred not to do it, particularly not with biting insects to contend with. _Honour, I could understand. If Tigatron thought that weapons gave us an unfair advantage and refused them, I could appreciate that motive. If this turns out too easy, I might consider leaving them behind next time myself. But I feel disgustingly weak in this body and believe that our current priorities are caution and success. Why is Tigatron making things difficult for herself?_

_Does she really want to be an animal _that_ badly?_

As of yet, Tigatron's eccentricities hadn't hurt her. Dinobot decided to let her worry about herself and cast his thoughts to matters he knew were dangerous. _When we return to the _Axalon_, will it welcome us, or will Megatron have taken it over? Just because he is injured does not mean he can be underestimated, and he will be _angry_ when he awakens. If Optimus follows my advice on how to treat Predacons, he might stay their wrath for a while. Long enough for me to return, at least._

_Sigh. He's probably giving teamwork speeches at this moment. I should never have left ..._

Tigatron didn't move, her breathing didn't change, but Dinobot sensed her sudden tension. He tried to see what had caught her attention. After a moment, he saw it - a small, brown antelope with a white crest down its back had stopped to drink. He briefly cursed his eyesight - he should have seen it immediately, but his new eyes were too easily tricked and the creature's hide had seemed to be merely more patches of shifting light and shadow. The antelope glanced around nervously, as if it sensed they were there, then after a moment bent its head to the water.

The antelope was about Tigatron's mass, but the tracker managed to bring it down.

Yesterday, that would have ended it. Tigatron's full weight driving the creature to the ground would stun it, and because Tigatron didn't like animals to suffer, a single, strong bite would sever the spinal cord and kill it instantly. This time she managed to knock it to the ground and keep it down, but it thrashed and screamed and fought. It couldn't get into a position to stab her with its twisted horns, but it did get a few kicks in.

She used her weight to keep the antelope on its side, unable to get its feet under itself and buck her off. Then Tigatron caught it by the horns and twisted sharply.

Dinobot waited until it was plain that Tigatron lacked the strength to break its neck, then helped her restrain the animal so he could dispatch it with a laser blast to the base of its skull.

The antelope stopped struggling. "Next time I will choose smaller prey," muttered Tigatron.

Dinobot holstered the gun. "Next time you will carry a weapon."

* * *

He stopped, bent, and scratched another arrow into the dirt with a shard of metal he had picked up from the crash site, as he did every hundred steps. The other never waited for him, but the other's legs were shorter than his, so he was able to catch up easily. "We should have waited by the stasis pods."

"I ain't waitin' to be rescued. I got my pride," growled the other. "'Sides, we _know_ somethin' went wrong, otherwise we wouldn't be out here. Maybe there's nobody else."

"Well, what are we looking for?"

The other rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the dampness and dust. "I dunno. I'll know it when I see it. This," - he made a sweeping gesture to encompass the wasteland - "ain't it."

"Maybe there is nothing else."

"Gotta be somethin' else."

He stopped pursuing the argument. The other had to believe that, in the way he himself had to believe someone was out there looking for them. They brought up the argument every once in a while, though they were already living the compromise - they would walk and search for the other's 'something else', but they would leave a trail.

In a way, he was relieved. He had felt nervous around the pods. There had been a feeling of death in the air, though he couldn't understand why. They were just broken metal.

After a time, he scratched another arrow and caught up to the other again. "Why did you attack me?"

"What?"

He turned to frown at he other. "Back by the stasis pods. Why did you insist on fighting me?"

"Tarnation, you still on about that? Just wanted to see what you were made of is all."

"Why?"

Usually the conversation ended there. The other would just shake his head in a _why are you so dense?_ way and get back to the business of walking. This time, the other sighed. "'Cause I wanted to know which one of us was stronger. 'Cause I feel better knowing that if I gotta be stuck in the middle of nowhere that I got a partner tough enough to back me up."

"Oh." And, feeling how much it cost the other to admit that, "Thank you."

"Just walk."

* * *

Megatron found the room that Terrorsaur had claimed and pressed the chime. After a moment, the very dishevelled and somewhat damp air warrior opened the door and looked up at him. "So you're finally up. Why aren't you bothering Inferno or Scorponok or someone?"

"Inferno is out and I like Scorponok."

"Scrap. Watching Inferno drag you down to the showers would've been worth this whole mess."

"What's going on? Is Megatron giving orders?" Waspinator appeared behind Terrorsaur, yawning. "Waspinator doesn't feel like following them."

"I only need one of you," said Megatron.

Terrorsaur shrugged. "Might as well be me," he said, and Waspinator vanished back into the room. "It's not like I sleep well anyway. What do you want, Megatron?"

"Cybertron under my heel. Barring that, you mentioned something about bathing a moment ago."

"You _would_ have latched onto that. Yeah, Inferno convinced the Maximals to update their showers - something about the old cleaning chemicals being too caustic for these bodies," Terrorsaur explained. "They just use water now. And she got new clothes made. She couldn't figure out a way to get the lava stench out of the originals. I don't know where she left yours."

Come to think of it, there had been a pile of dark fabric on his desk. "My room. She seems to believe it's also hers." Megatron chuckled. "Well, well. So it seems that Inferno has been leading the Predacons in my absence. I didn't know she had it in her."

Terrorsaur made a face at him. "I'll show you where the showers are. You can deal with that yourself."

He followed the air warrior. "What of fuel?"

"I'll show you after you've cleaned up."

They picked up Megatron's new clothes from his room and left them in the hall so they wouldn't get wet. Clothing turned out to be slightly more complicated than he had first thought. There were layers to it, such as when he removed his boots, his feet were still covered by fabric. When he had finally removed it all, Terrorsaur picked up the pile. "Where are you going with that?"

"Waste disposal," said Terrorsaur. "You'll never get the stench out."

"What if we need our original coverings for when we change back?"

The air warrior paused a moment. "I don't think it matters. It's not really a part of us."

Megatron frowned. "I would rather not take the chance. Drop those off outside my quarters." Terrorsaur shrugged awkwardly and left.

Megatron activated the shower and stood out of range. Already quite aware that his new body had poor resistance to temperature, he carefully put a hand under the spray instead of walking right into it. It wasn't as cold as Cybertronian showers usually were and the temperature was within his new tolerances, but it still promised to be an unpleasant experience. _But the choice seems to be tolerate a chill or to continue to feel sticky and smell of lava._ He stepped into it and found one positive - the cold water felt good against the burns on his face.

After a while, he decided he was probably as clean as he was going to get, and shut off the water. Apparently Terrorsaur had been hanging around outside and listening, because he entered seconds later with Megatron's new clothes. Megatron took the top item from the stack of fabric in Terrorsaur's arms and inspected it. "And how _are_ you doing?"

"Like you care."

He pulled his shirt over his head, wincing as the fabric brushed his face. "Scientific curiosity."

"Better than I was this morning," said Terrorsaur. "The burns on my face and in my throat still hurt badly, but not quite as much. My headache is mostly gone. Breathing still hurts, but it's not difficult. My body temperature feels about right, or at least it feels comfortable. I've fuelled, so that's not a problem. I'm thirsty again, though."

Megatron finished with his boots and straightened up again. "Hm. Progress is being made, if slowly. Anything else of interest to report?"

"Nothing if you don't count the fact that unless the others have come back, the only Maximals in the place are Optimus and Airazor."

_I swear that Primal is taunting me,_ thought Megatron irritably. _Here I am, walking free in the _Axalon_, along with nearly all the Predacons - and only two Maximals are on guard. And I have to _pass it up_ because I need the Maximals alive for now!_ He shrugged. "There will be better opportunities later, yes. Our first priority is to regain our strength."

* * *

Rhinox chuckled. "You know, these would have been useful early this afternoon." He picked up a canteen, filled it from the water drum, drained its contents, put it in the decontamination chamber for a few seconds to clean it, then came back and flopped down into the chair across from Optimus. "I wonder how Dinobot and Tigatron are holding up."

"I didn't even think of canteens until after you left," Optimus said apologetically. "At least Tigatron will know how to find clean water, if anyone can." He quickly sketched in what had been happening while Rhinox was out.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head. "Rattrap and Inferno out on a mission together. I wonder if we'll ever get used to things like that."

"I don't see the truce lasting that long."

"You think we'll be able to get our robot bodies back that quickly?"

"Either that or the Predacons will get impatient."

Rhinox sighed. "It was a nice thought, anyway." Then, "What's all this?"

"Cheetor dropped them off before running out again," said Optimus, spreading his hands over the pile of greenery on the table. "The files we'd made don't have the kind of information we need now, so I have to update our records with new scans. What's the status of the stasis pod you checked?"

Rhinox shrugged. "It's one of the blanks. I just left it where it was. It should be safe enough."

Optimus' eyebrows lifted. "It's still just a regular protoform?"

"Yeah. So either the people in the pods were unaffected by the alien energy wave, or the aliens track us by our sparks." Blank protoforms didn't have any. "We won't know until we activate a pod."

The door opened, followed by a heavy sigh. "I suppose I couldn't get through the afternoon without encountering Maximals," said Megatron.

"We kind of live here," said Optimus. "Looking for something?"

Megatron stepped into the room, Terrorsaur in tow. "Terrorsaur told me I could refuel here."

"Yeah. Hang on." Optimus set about finding things for Megatron, and tried to think of him as someone who needed help and not the person who had been trying to kill him for the last year.

Megatron took the beaker in his left hand, and after a flicker of uncertainty, picked up the fruit with his right. Terrorsaur took one of the canteens, filled it, and left. Rhinox got up. "I'm going to see if Airazor wants a break from the monitors."

Megatron claimed the vacated chair and drank half his water slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Then he settled back casually, idly tossing and catching the fruit in his right hand. It was such an obvious show of 'I'm not slave to my physical needs and I'm perfectly comfortable in the enemy camp' machismo that Optimus wondered if Megatron was teasing him or if he was in such bad condition that he believed he was being subtle. The Predacon smiled. "And how are _you_, Primal?"

_I don't have to practice using a hand that used to be teeth,_ he thought. He said, "Busy. I want to go to your base and pick up some equipment. Not right now, obviously. Tomorrow morning."

Megatron fumbled, but had the presence of mind to just let the fruit fall in his lap instead of scrambling for it and dropping his water. He pretended he meant to do it and took a sip from the beaker. "_I_ don't."

It was because Megatron still felt too unwell to do much of anything, they both knew it, but Megatron would never admit it and Dinobot had warned Optimus not to point it out. Optimus said, "The sooner we can gather our resources, the sooner we can get to the real work of trying to restore our true forms."

"Unless you have some way to counter the heat inside, the base is off-limits," said Megatron.

"Look, I'm not much for dancing around a subject. The disc's probably our best chance, Megatron."

"The truce," said Megatron, "only states that we may not fight. It says nothing of giving up hard-won artefacts to Maximals because they want them. I also don't see what good it will do here."

"I'm talking about the alien disc, not the one you stole on Cybertron."

The Predacon's expression didn't even flicker. "Mm, so you do know about that one. The answer is still no."

"Let me know when you change your mind."

* * *

"You are limping."

Tigatron didn't look back at Dinobot, merely growled quietly and continued leading the way. "Concern or gloating?"

"Observation." Dinobot frowned. The antelope's small hoof had torn a long but fortunately shallow gash in the tracker's lower leg. The wound had dripped for a bit, then filled with blood and seemed to stop for the most part. That injury could be the cause of Tigatron's limp, or it might have been nothing more than that her feet were bare and damaged by the ground.

They were almost out of the jungle when Tigatron suddenly stopped and grabbed his arm. "Don't argue! Climb!"

Tigatron's tone was urgent enough that Dinobot obeyed, swinging up behind the tracker. After a moment, he heard what Tigatron's sharper senses had already detected: the sound of bodies running through the jungle, and a kind of odd barking.

There were six of them with the look of canines, each one his mass or more, croaking in an odd way that almost sounded like laughter. They swarmed around the loader drone, pulling the antelope carcass from its grasp and tearing at it with sharp teeth. Dinobot could recognise a poor tactical situation when he saw one. Tigatron nodded. "Hyenas. They were attracted by the scent of blood."

"That was _our_ kill. We should be ..."

"We will be no use to the others dead," said Tigatron. She shifted her weight, settling in to wait out the scavengers. "I should have foreseen this. I've grown too used to the native life avoiding us."

Dinobot glared down at the hyena pack. A couple of them jumped and snapped ineffectually, but soon gave up. These were heavily-built creatures, not suited to dealing with meat in trees. "The scent of the loader drone should have warned them off."

"They _can_ tell living metal from unliving," said Tigatron. "Nothing would ever come near enough a stasis pod to scan otherwise. The loader drone is only a clumsy, slow-moving _thing_, and they recognise it as such. And we, I'm afraid, are just lightly-built primates."

He could hear the faint snarl in her voice - oh, yes, Tigatron could be patient and accept her situation, but she didn't have to like it. She wanted to be down there, fighting with the teeth and claws she didn't have, to claim her kill and defend her territory. "Lightly-built primates up a tree," grumbled Dinobot. "Perhaps Optimus could get home like this." The trees were too far apart for him to even attempt it. He drew his gun. "Feh. I've no interest in waiting around for the scavengers to finish."

"Kill them and it will just attract more scavengers," said Tigatron. "We wait."

Dinobot re-holstered his gun and took the control for the loader drone out of his pocket. "I never wait when I don't have to. Perhaps they can be led off."

The antelope carcass had been torn, but was still intact enough for the drone to pick it up. It drove off slowly, deeper into the jungle, hyenas snapping at its treads. Tigatron nodded her approval. "Not a foolproof plan, but one with a reasonable chance of success. We aren't the right shape or scent - while we could be prey of opportunity, they may not think us worth chasing while they already have a meal."

Dinobot stopped the drone before it was lost from sight, had it drop the dead antelope, and started it back towards them. The hyenas were focused on the carcass and didn't bother to follow the machine.

Once the drone was under their tree, they climbed back down. "We should be gone before they finish," said Tigatron. "We know that we can still hunt effectively in these bodies. We will try again tomorrow, with a better plan."

She did, however, take his gun when he offered it to her.

* * *

It was a bad place for pods to land, Rattrap thought. Nothing but dry, cracked ground and twisted trees. Airazor had come down in an area livelier than this and nearly died for nothing to scan.

Rattrap landed the hoversled, then took a moment to remove his jacket and tie the arms around the hand bar of the vehicle. It might have been a light jacket, but the sun beat down too hot for it to be comfortable. _Pit, maybe Tigatron had the right idea. Why're we wearin' all this stuff in this heat?_

As if in answer, something small and winged landed on his arm and bit him. Rattrap squashed it and wiped the remains off on his trousers. _Okay, fine._

"I know this area well."

It was the first thing Inferno had said since they left the _Axalon_ nearly two megacycles ago. Rattrap glanced back at her. "Guess it's a good thing we got a truce, then, or you'd have picked these up on your next patrol." Inferno made a dismissive noise and went to prowl around the perimeter of the landing site.

The pods were open and it was obvious at a glance that they were unoccupied. Rattrap released the magnets that clamped his toolbox to the hoversled and took it over for a better look.

There was something wrong, and it took a few seconds to realise what it was. _There's too much debris around to have come off just two pods._

He found most of it a ways from the other two pods. From the way the debris had scattered, it looked like it had exploded after it had landed.

_And after scanning,_ Rattrap noticed. The largest recognisable piece was most of a forearm. The hand was brown, though the fingers and arm were a gray-blue. Most importantly, it was metal. Rattrap left it where it was. There was nothing he could do for it right now. He pocketed a few smaller pieces to take back to the _Axalon_ for preliminary scans.

He found the computer for the shattered pod near the other two, but it was too damaged to even try to salvage. He turned his attention to the other two pods. They were visibly damaged, but still basically intact. They had landed hard and were missing bits and were covered in electrical burns. Either the crash shorted out the electrical systems or, given this planet and the likely cause of the other pod's destruction, there was a large store of energon underground here. It was strange to know the stuff was nearby and not feel it. _Brought my hand tools, didn't bring a scanner. Blast it, I forgot that I can't rely on my own senses ..._

Rattrap climbed up on the closest pod to look inside. There was no trace of the protoform, which could mean it either solidified and walked away or died and dissipated. He set about retrieving the pods' memory chips. They'd be able to figure out what happened back at the _Axalon_.

A while later, the light was blotted out and he turned to find Inferno standing over him. "There are tracks here," said the Predacon. "All around this area, then leading away. The protoforms are changed as we are."

"You sure? 'Cause I found a robot arm back there."

"I'm certain," said Inferno. "The tracks are of the same kind we make. There are two distinct sets. I believe they fought. And they want to be followed."

"How do you figure that?"

"They left a sign."

Rattrap stashed the bits he'd taken from the pods in his toolbox, then went to look for himself. The ground was dry and hard, but here and there was enough loose dirt to show footprints and not enough wind to blow them away. And, here, scratched into the hard ground, was an arrow. "All right, so we know where they went. What do you mean they were fighting?"

Inferno lead him to the dry scrub grasses on the other side of the pods. Rattrap prodded at the vegetation with his foot. "Y'know ... I think you're right. The plants are all crushed here like they were rolled on and the ground's all scuffed." Something caught his attention, and he bent down to retrieve a bit of gold-edged brown.

The Predacon frowned. "Feathers? Are those important?"

"They are if they're synthetic, which I'm pretty sure these are. Hm. Airazor had that little feathery cape when she first turned," said Rattrap. She had removed it after a couple of megacycles, explaining it tickled her arms and distracted her. "Maybe one of the neophytes has one."

He pocketed the feather and started back towards the hoversled. "How far does this wasteland go?"

Inferno squinted at the horizon. "Yesterday, not so far. Today ..."

'Not far' to a robot ant with rocket turbines was probably 'very far' to an organic. "At least there's no cover, so they'll be easy to spot. C'mon, firebug."

* * *

"... And it's, like, crazy-hot out there and there's _bugs_ and they _bite_ and I wish I still had my tail to swat 'em - isn't that weird? I used to swat flies because I could, but now that I _need_ to, I haven't got a tail. I guess that's why we've got clothes - to help keep the bugs off. But they're too hot. Maybe I could take the sleeves off, like Dinobot's shirt, except, if we suddenly change back, do you think I'd be missing armour?"

It took a moment for Optimus to realise he'd been asked a question. He'd been treating Cheetor's prattling like background noise. He wasn't bothered by it, he just wasn't expecting to be asked to participate. "I don't know. It's not really a part of our bodies. I don't think we'll just suddenly revert back, either."

"Well, you know. Just in case." Cheetor returned to organizing the plant samples he'd collected for Optimus. Most of them were already listed in the computer, and having Cheetor trying to match up what he had to existing files did save Optimus a little time, but, well, he wasn't very good at it. Cheetor didn't know where to start looking. But he wanted to escape the heat for a while and Optimus was glad of company, so it all worked out.

"Do you think -" started Cheetor, but was cut off by a pained scream from the next room. Automatically, Optimus and Cheetor ran to the xenobiology lab to see what was happening.

Blackarachnia was curled on the floor, arms up as if to protect her head - she had been the one who screamed. Tarantulas groaned once and tried to get up, but just managed to roll onto her side. The Predacons were connected to each other by the wires of their data transfer visors. Optimus knelt by Blackarachnia, decided that whatever had happened was over, and removed her visor. At his gesture, Cheetor did the same for Tarantulas.

Optimus lifted Blackarachnia into a sitting position so that her weight was resting against his right arm and leg. She slowly opened her eyes, then glared. Optimus looked back impassively, having grown to expect belligerence from Predacons when he tried to be nice to them. "Are you all right?"

"What do _you_ care?" Blackarachnia snapped. She tried to get up, then fell back against Optimus.

"What caused this?"

Blackarachnia kept to her sullen silence. There was a harsh chuckle somewhere above him, and Optimus looked up to find Tarantulas looking down from her perch on the table. "Blackarachnia had the idea that since our brains still run on electrical impulses that she might use the data transfer equipment to prod my thoughts and wake me up. _Isn't_ she _clever_?" Tarantulas purred.

Optimus frowned. "How do you know that?"

The scientist blinked at him in surprise. "During the process, I got a brief flash of Blackarachnia's thoughts. I don't think they helped particularly in explaining what's happened here. Teh-ha, I still don't know what I'm doing in this body and why I'm on the _Axalon_ but not in a holding cell."

Blackarachnia huffed quietly, then, using Optimus as a crutch, got back to her feet. Optimus stood as well, then waved back at the door. "Both of you could probably stand refuelling. Come with me."

Blackarachnia had eaten some hours earlier and went and helped herself from the diminishing stash in the loader drone. Optimus wasn't worried about that. He'd already identified several alternatives. He offered a fruit to Tarantulas, but she made a face. "_I_ am _not_ eating a _plant_."

"It's what we have right now."

Tarantulas took it with a sigh, and sat in one of the room's two chairs. "Are you sure you haven't any mice?"

"Catch your own if you want them." Despite being hunted for fun by Cheetor and eaten by Dinobot and Airazor, the local rodents hadn't learned to stay out of the _Axalon_. "You can't eat them whole, though - as far as I can tell, we can't digest hair."

"Too bad. The feel of a small animal struggling as its swallowed is one of life's little pleasures."

_If I show disgust, she wins._ He kept his expression neutral. "Scrabbling claws would probably damage your throat now."

"I should check in with Megatron," said Blackarachnia. "He'll want to know that Tarantulas is active." She left.

Tarantulas held up the fruit and regarded it glumly. "Well, don't make me keep guessing, Maximal - what's going on?"

* * *

He saw it first and pointed it out to the other - a bit of green in the endless brown. The other frowned. "There oughta be more of it."

"It still bears investigation." He scratched an arrow pointing towards the green and they went for a closer look.

There was green on the ground, soft under their feet, like and unlike the dry green back by the pods. There were a few of the structure-growths - still stunted and twisted, but these were covered with little green banners. _Trees,_ he thought, the connection between word and object only coming now with the green. In the middle of it all was a liquid that reflected the sky.

The other nodded. "We need that."

"I know. But ... how do we know?"

The other reached up, touched his forehead, and his fingers came back damp. "We've been leaking it, for one thing. Seems like logic to me."

There was a guttural snarl behind them, and they turned, startled. The creature limped towards them from a space between two trees - it might have been sleeping in the shade, awakened by their voices. It was thin and angular with worn patches in fur that might have once been a tawny brown. It was larger than him, and growled through a heavy mouth full of rotting teeth. But despite the wreck of its body, its dark gold eyes were clear and focused.

He dropped the metal shard and held out his empty hands. "We mean you no harm, friend. We only want some of your water, and then we will leave."

The creature snarled again, coming closer. The other stepped back in a type of half-crouch. "I don't think this is the kinda thing you can _talk_ to."

"Our intentions are peaceful."

"I don't think its are."

Two more steps, and the creature chose the smaller target, lunging at the other.

The creature was desperate, but it was also weak. The other managed to dodge - he rolled, caught up the metal shard, then swung it up hard and fast and tore a long wound down the creature's side. The other turned in anticipation of a second attack, but relaxed when he realised how much damage he'd done - the creature was trying to crawl away, breathing shallowly and spilling itself out through its torn flesh.

He himself looked down sadly. "It was just trying to protect its territory. There is no reason for it to suffer."

The other looked at him incredulously. "It attacked me."

"Give me the shard!"

The other shrugged and handed over the jagged bit of metal. He took it, knelt by the dying creature, and slashed its throat before he could find an excuse to stall. Then he turned away and retched, though there was nothing to expel.

When his dry heaves passed, the other took the metal shard from his unresisting fingers and helped pull him back to his feet.

They drank some of the water, splashed a bit on their faces because it felt good, and tried to clean the fluid of the creature off themselves as best they were able.

There was water and shade, and _we could stop here for a while. Perhaps ..._

He made the mistake of looking down and saw the stains on his sleeves. They had faded a bit with washing, but wouldn't go away completely. He stood up and scowled at the horizon. "Let us go."

"What's got you in such an all-fired hurry? ... All right, all right, I'm comin' ..."


	6. A Question of Identity: Part 3

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
A Question of Identity - part three **

Tigatron wondered briefly how she and Dinobot were supposed to get back into the _Axalon_ with the lift retracted, but it lowered as they approached. Whoever was on monitor duty must have seen them coming.

It turned out to be Rhinox. The engineer swivelled his chair around to face them. "How'd it go?"

"Failure," said Dinobot.

"Partial success," said Tigatron.

Dinobot made a derisive noise and vanished into the bulk of the _Axalon_. They watched him go, then Rhinox asked, "Where'd you put the loader drone?"

"Just outside," said Tigatron. "It's rather a mess. We didn't think anyone would want it tracked through the ship." The tracker explained what had happened on her hunt with Dinobot, then, "Is Airazor around?"

"She's out for a walk," said Rhinox. "Got tired of being cooped up in here."

Tigatron smiled in acknowledgement, then left the control room to head for the showers. She chuckled to herself, _Given the state I'm in, perhaps it's for the best that I've got time to clean up before she sees me._

Dinobot wasn't there, which either meant he'd been extremely fast, or, given him, didn't bother. Tigatron turned on the water and let the spray wash over her, taking away the sweat and dirt and blood. Not much blood - the scratches from sharp-edged leaves and twigs weren't deep and weren't even leaking any more. Her struggle with the nyala had left her with scrapes, bruises, and a tear in her leg that didn't start bleeding again after she washed the dried blood out of it. There were some wounds on her feet that might need a bit of care, though. _I suppose clothing really is necessary to these forms. Boots certainly are!_

Still, she regarded the scratches and scrapes and insect bites and the soreness in her limbs with a smile. Dinobot may have hated his new body and the others would rather be metal even if they weren't complaining, but for Tigatron, it felt _right_. Becoming organic, becoming a _part_ of the world she loved, was a dream come true. Not perfect, but close enough.

There was just one thing she was anxious about. _I haven't had a minute alone with Airazor since this began. We've both been busy on one task or another - important tasks and work that needed to be done, but ... I need to talk to her. She's always been attuned to this planet, seen it as home, and she seems to have taken the change fairly well ..._

She sighed. _I know what I feel. I do not doubt that she still loves me. But can she handle a relationship on these terms? We never had much of a physical relationship, true, but will the organic be just too strange for her? Has she even thought that far ahead yet or as she been too busy to really think about the change, consider the implications, and decide what she thinks of it?_

* * *

The other had stopped talking some time ago. He wasn't sure if he was glad about that. While it was nice to have a bit of silence so he could think, it meant that the other was wearing down as well.

He was tired. He was tired and the light pounded down on him too bright and too hot. His mouth was dry, his throat was dry, and he felt as if the dryness was trying to climb down inside of him and turn him as dry and cracked as the land. He still remembered to stop and scratch his arrows into the ground.

Sometimes he thought they should have stayed at the oasis. There was shade there, and water, _and the body of the creature I killed. To end its suffering, yes, but that tastes of excuse. I could not remain there._ The image of the creature still lurked in his mind, sickly and tattered and _it must have made a poor living out there. Why would it stay there if there was _anywhere_ better within its reach? This speaks ill for the chances of my companion and I._

Sometimes he thought about stopping, really stopping, not just pausing. A rest, yes, perhaps the next dead tree would have enough shade to grant a bit of relief from the light ... They could wait until it was dark to continue, perhaps there would be enough moonlight ... _And how do I know that darkness will come?_ They could wait until they were rescued ...

_And how do I know that rescue will come?_

And the other would not let him stop. In their short time together - his whole lifetime - he knew enough of the other to know that. The other would keep walking until he found his destination or his body fell out from underneath him. And then he would crawl.

The other was trailing a few paces behind him. He didn't need to turn around to check. He could hear the other's footsteps and his increasingly laboured breathing. There was also a faint hum and the sound of something like wind, but he didn't register it as part of his universe until he heard the other's noise of surprise. He turned and found a metal device pacing him, bearing two beings similar to himself and the other. The female was tall - taller than himself and much taller than her companion - and had some sort of device strapped to her back that he could recognise as a weapon. The male was short, brown as the wasteland, and grinning.

The male chuckled. "Well, that solves the mystery of the feathers."

The device came to a halt, so he and the other stopped and waited. The female stepped down almost reluctantly, but the male hopped down and beamed at them. "I know, I know, I'll try to explain the bodies on the way back to the _Axalon_. Bet you never thought it would be _this_ crazy when you signed up. I'm Rattrap, and the monolith here is Inferno," he said. "Who're you?"

He and the other exchanged a glance before turning back to Rattrap. "Names?" he asked. "It ... never occurred to me that I could _name_ myself."

"... You mean you didn't _know_ your names when you woke up?" asked Rattrap.

"No. No, we ..." he started, then slowly collapsed.

"Primus. Inferno!"

Inferno got an arm under his shoulders and helped him back to his feet. "I ... I am sorry," he said, partly to Rattrap for the interruption, but mostly to Inferno. She was large and strong and it was logical that she was the one to help him, but he felt guilty about it. He didn't trust himself to stand on his own, and the realisation of dependence made the guilt-feeling worse. "We had been walking so long that it was the only thing keeping us going."

"Speak for yourself," boasted the other, who had gone to the device and was hanging onto its railing, pretending to inspect it.

"I swear this planet is tryin' to kill us," said Rattrap. "We gotta get you two back to the _Axalon_."

They didn't leave immediately. Food and water were taken from what he had thought was just a part of the device, but it turned out to be a crate attached to it. He wasn't very hungry but ate some of the plant because he was told to, and needed no encouragement to drink. The water was warm, but it tasted better than the water at the oasis had.

Once on the device - _loader sled,_ murmured his thoughts - Rattrap turned it about one-hundred-twenty degrees and built up speed until the ground blurred beneath them. Inferno had planted herself at the very back, against the railing, with himself and the other at either side. The size and curvature of the sled meant that Inferno could have her hands on the railing while having an arm around himself and the other to support them. He still felt guilty about this, and held onto the railing. The other settled himself more comfortably against Inferno and put an arm around her waist for support. _At least,_ he thought, _that had better be his reason._

The other suddenly drew in a breath and touched Inferno's wrist. "What happened to your hand, sugar?"

Inferno barely glanced over. The skin on the back of her right hand and fingers was blistered. It didn't seem too serious, but it looked painful. "Chemical burn."

"Don't it hurt?"

Inferno shrugged. The other sighed happily and settled back against her.

The light still beat down, but the speed created a breeze. After a few minutes, Rattrap spoke again without turning. "You were tellin' me you didn't have names."

"Yes, that is right. We have words and knowledge and concepts, but no identity." He frowned slightly as the static in his mind cleared long enough for one idea - _Name follows form and function_ - before swirling away into confusion again. _But I do not know who I am or what I do._

Rattrap shook his head. "So I can't start from the middle and assume you know the beginning. All right - stasis pods. Those came off our ship - the _Axalon_. We've been lookin' for you 'cause you're part of our crew. Well, my crew. Inferno's not part of it."

"Thank the Royalty," muttered Inferno.

"Aw, don't be that way, sugar," said the other. "Whatever they done to you, I'm sure _we_ can be friends."

"What _do_ we do?" he asked.

"We're exploration scientists," said Rattrap. "Hopefully we can figure out who you were supposed to be before you got your circuits scrambled. Unless you get your memories back, I hope neither of you was our lab biologist!"

"... Circuits?"

"Quickstrike," said the other suddenly. "If I get to choose my own name, I'm Quickstrike."

Rattrap nodded. "Fine. Quickstrike." He risked a glance back. "So what about you? You gonna think of one for yourself or do I gotta name you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to look out at the horizon. If he didn't know who he was, at least he knew who he wanted to be. "Silverbolt. I will be Silverbolt."

"And Silverbolt. Gotcha," said Rattrap. "We found your pods before we found you. I knew they were damaged, but didn't realise how damaged until you two said you didn't have names. All right, I'll fill you in - you signed up for a long-range, long-term space exploration mission. We ended up chasing a Predacon ship through a transwarp hole and crash-landed on this planet. We'd settled into a life of exploring the planet, trying to re-establish contact with Cybertron, and not letting the Preds kill us. Then some super-powered aliens turned us into these squashy things for some reason, so we got a truce with the Preds until we can get our real bodies back. Got it?"

"No," said Silverbolt.

Rattrap sighed. "What part's stickin' for you?"

"I can understand all your words as words. I could break down the etymology of them for you," said Silverbolt. He shrugged helplessly, though Rattrap couldn't see it. "But they mean nothing to me."

"And why do you keep sayin' there's somethin' wrong with our bodies?" demanded Quickstrike.

"Oh, _Primus_ ..."

* * *

Annoyed at being pulled out of a perfectly nice dream where she had rotors again, she responded by jabbing her elbow into her partner's side. Terrorsaur draped an arm over his eyes and groaned. Waspinator rolled over and picked up his hand to peer at him. "Terror-bot was having a nightmare."

He swatted her away. "I know."

"Terror-bot got all mumbly and twitchy and woke Waspinator up," Waspinator accused. "So Waspinator had to wake terror-bot up."

"That's _why_ I asked you to stay with me. You know that!"

"This is fifth time it happened since morning! Waspinator getting fed up with being woken up all the time!"

Terrorsaur covered his eyes again. "Door's that way."

"Bah. If Waspinator leaves, terror-bot will be knocking on her door in a few megacycles because he had another nightmare and can't handle it." She took his other arm, extended it, and claimed it for a pillow. It wasn't much, but it was better than the metal berth. "Which one was it?"

"Variation of 'What Have You Done To Yourself?' Slaggit. I shouldn't have asked for a mirror. I just know that's what set that one off."

Waspinator wiggled a bit to get more comfortable. "Waspinator never understood how that one was a nightmare."

The air warrior extended the fingers of his free hand to flick her in the side of the head. "I probably couldn't explain it, anyway."

She waited a few minutes, then sat up. "Waspinator isn't tired. Waspinator is bored."

"I swear I'm going to push you off the berth," muttered Terrorsaur, but got up. "Fine. I don't like being in here, either."

They didn't see anyone until they reached the control room, and then it was only Cheetor. "Hey!" Cheetor got up, but made no move towards them. "Where are you two going?"

Terrorsaur sneered at him. "Are we prisoners?"

"No."

"Then we're going outside."

They didn't go far, staying in the shadow of the _Axalon_. The bloodstained loader drone sitting near the lift was a bit strange, but the Predacons were more interested in the sky. The sun had only begun to set, but the moons were already up. One moon, anyway. Waspinator wrinkled her nose at it. "Alien device must be invisible again."

"Maybe it blew itself up to create the energy wave," said Terrorsaur. "The other moon's all splotchy now."

They settled on either side of one of the _Axalon's_ landing legs, Waspinator on the side with the moon. _Seems familiar,_ she thought, squinting at it. _Waspinator has seen that pattern before. Waspinator just can't remember where!_

She was about to ask Terrorsaur if he recognised it when the lift went up and came down and Dinobot stepped out. He glanced over at them, then pretended they weren't there. Terrorsaur made a face at him, then set about ignoring him right back. For her part, Waspinator chose to watch Dinobot. Whatever he'd been doing all day, it left him scratched up and dirty. The Maximal walked out a ways, also looking up at the moon.

He tensed suddenly, and Waspinator thought he realised she'd been watching him, but he didn't turn. He stared at the moon for a moment longer, then turned and practically ran back into the _Axalon_.

_Is moon,_ thought Waspinator, looking at it again. _Why would moon worry lizard-bot? ..._ And then she realised where she'd seen the pattern on the moon before. _Waspinator knows that moon! Waspinator has seen pictures! Here is Earth! Is where Predacons were trying to go! Waspinator knows!_ She looked back at the lift. _And Dinobot knows._

Waspinator tucked her knees to her chest and shuddered. Terrorsaur glanced back at her. "Cold?"

"Er ... yes." It was cool enough out that the lie worked. "Waspinator will go back inside. Terror-bot doesn't have to."

Terrorsaur rolled his eyes and stayed where he was. Waspinator fled back inside, out of sight of the moon. Dinobot was in the control room, but didn't notice her. She ran back to her room, locked herself in, and sat on the berth with her hands at her temples, trying to think. _Is Earth! Is _past_! Golden Disc not just map to a lot of energon, is record of the future! So much power ..._ She brought her hands down to hold in front of her face. _But _useless_ now! Is useless power if Predacons can't live long enough to ..._

She stopped. _Maybe Disc _can_ be used._

Waspinator considered going back out and asking Terrorsaur for help - he was good at plans, at least until they failed, but it was better than she ever did - and decided against it. There would be too much to explain and it was too possible that it wouldn't work, anyway.

Besides, the Golden Disc wouldn't do _him_ any good.

* * *

They were still in the wasteland when Rattrap looked at the setting sun, then slowed and veered off-course. Inferno was immediately looming over him. "Where do you think you're taking us?"

"I'm lookin' for a place to set up camp for the night," said Rattrap. "We have to stop. We won't be able to navigate after it gets dark."

"I know this territory," Inferno reminded him.

"Well enough to lead us through it blind?" asked Rattrap.

"The Royalty managed it."

"Megatron's gone the route more times than you, knows it from ground level, and was desperate enough to try," said Rattrap. "I don't see either of us bein' able to pull it off. We stop until daylight. The others'll be worried about us, but I'd rather show up a day late than get totally lost."

Inferno considered that. "The Colony is near here. We could likely reach it before dark."

"The what ... oh. We can't go inside. You saw what happened to Megatron and them."

"Not to stay," said Inferno. "I meant just to contact the _Axalon_."

"And _I_ meant we can't go inside even just for a minute. You ain't fireproof no more," Rattrap said.

Rattrap found a bit of ground about five metres diameter in the middle of some largish rocks. It wasn't sealed in, but it gave the feeling of security. He set the hoversled down just outside of it. "What kind of critters you get around here, firebug?" asked Rattrap, pulling his jacket back on.

"We don't, usually," said Inferno. "Most animals give the lava fields a wide berth."

They needed light and, if the rapidly dropping temperature was any indication, heat. Luckily, both were easy to acquire. The wasteland trees were dead and brittle, and branches were little trouble to break off. Once they had made a good pile of wood, Rattrap turned back to Inferno. "There. Think you can light that without settin' the rest of us on fire?"

Inferno unslung the cannon from her back and fiddled with the settings for a few minutes. Then she pointed it at the pile of wood and fired. There was no blast, just a beam that started the wood smouldering before a few small tongues of flame lapped at the sky.

Rattrap blinked. "That was less explodey than I expected."

"You _said_ to ..."

"Yeah, yeah, it's good."

She was messing with her gun again, setting the power back to attack levels. "Even though wildlife is scarce in this area, we should not assume there is none around. I will stand guard."

"Oh, no, no, no." Rattrap climbed up on one of the smaller boulders. "I ain't trustin' no Pred to watch my back. Besides, you're at least as done in as the rest of us. No way you can stay awake all night. I'll take first watch - I'll stay up for as long as I can, then wake up Quickstrike." The blond seemed to be in slightly better condition than Silverbolt.

"And yet I am supposed to trust _Maximals_," rumbled Inferno, but sat down near the fire.

Quickstrike sat near her. "You can always trust _me_, sugar."

The sun had set completely, and with only one moon, the night was darker than it had been. There was enough light to see shadows, but as Rattrap predicted it wasn't nearly enough to navigate safely. "You all might as well sleep. We got nothing to do for the next twelve megacycles."

"Is there any water left?" asked Silverbolt.

They finished off the supplies they had, since they knew they were less than two megacycles away from the _Axalon_. Afterwards, Silverbolt curled up and practically vanished into his feathered cape, Quickstrike stretched out and put his hands behind his head, and Inferno remained seated, refusing to let her guard down. Rattrap returned to his perch and stared out into the darkness.

* * *

Optimus went up to the control room, which was busier than he expected. Cheetor was on monitor duty, Rhinox was up to his elbows in wires as he fiddled with a console, and Dinobot was reading something on one of the smaller screens. Megatron was also there, sprawled in one of the chairs, doing nothing more threatening than keeping an eye on everyone. Dinobot would sometimes glance at him, but Megatron either didn't notice or was ignoring him.

Optimus frowned. "Aren't Rattrap and Inferno back yet?"

"Not yet, Big Bot," Cheetor reported. "I can't even find them with the scanner."

"It is plain what happened," said Dinobot, shutting off whatever he was working on and turning to look at Megatron. "Inferno turned on him."

Megatron glared back. "She did _not_."

"You sound so certain."

"I ordered her not to," said Megatron. "If she attacked the vermin, the only reason would have been self-defence."

"Rattrap wouldn't have attacked Inferno without good reason!" protested Cheetor.

"She's a Predacon," Megatron growled. "I'm sure that's reason enough."

"Knock it off, all of you!" yelled Optimus. "It's probably nothing worse than that night fell before they could get back. We can't see in the dark now. They would have to stop and wait for morning."

Dinobot made a derisive noise. "Unless they're blundering about blindly."

"Either way, we can't do anything about it until daylight," said Optimus. "If they're not back two megacycles after sunrise, we'll start looking for them."

"Why can't you contact them?" asked Megatron. "Is the energon interference high tonight?"

"No commlinks," said Rhinox.

Megatron rolled his eyes. "Sending people out without commlinks. Brilliant strategy."

Optimus glared at him. "Tell me when we had time to design new ones that don't function by integrating with our systems."

"Mm." Megatron pushed himself up with his arms and stood. "Then I will tell Scorponok and Blackarachnia that they have a project for tomorrow. They should be able to come up with something if you're all too _busy_." With that, he left the control room.

Cheetor sputtered. "That ungrateful ... Doesn't he realise we've been working to help the Predacons, too?"

"He knows." Dinobot got up. "I ... If I am not needed here, I'm returning to my quarters."

"You can turn in too, if you want," said Optimus to Cheetor. "I can't sleep. I might as well be up here." Cheetor grinned, tossed off a vague salute, and left.

Rhinox had disentangled himself from the open panel and moved to another workstation. He tapped at a few keys. "I thought about trying to pick up the energy signature of the hoversled, but no go. It could be out of range or inactive."

"The stasis pod tracking beacon signals we picked up were the ordinary kind," said Optimus. "I'm just worried. Every pod we recover brings us one more closer to ..."

"Ordinary beacons mean ordinary pods," said Rhinox firmly. "Anything that's out there, if Rattrap can't outwit it or avoid it, Inferno can beat the slag out of it."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

"Cold, sugar?"

"I am fine."

Rattrap hopped down from his perch on the rock and walked around the fire. "Thought I told both of you to go to sleep."

Inferno was sitting near the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees and her hand-cannon by her side. He thought she'd be on guard even though he said he didn't want her to, but instead she was hypnotised by the flames. "I do not shut down until the Royalty commands it."

Quickstrike was near her, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. He glanced up at Rattrap. "Can't. S'like my thoughts are all twitchy. I can lie down but I can't go under, you know? 'Sides, how am I supposed to sleep knowing 'Ferny's cold?"

"I think I know my physical status better than you do," said Inferno. "Why do you insist that I'm cold?"

The blond pushed himself up and scooted over beside Inferno. "Well, for one thing, I got long sleeves and this drapey thing and _I'm_ chilly. But mostly it's your skin, sugar. On the side away from the fire. S'gone all bumpy. Means it's cold."

Rattrap blinked at him. "What?"

"Callin' me a liar?"

"I am _fine_," Inferno repeated.

There was a quiet rustle as Silverbolt propped himself up and yawned. "Is something happening?"

"Aw, 'Ferny's cold and she's got too much pride to admit it," said Quickstrike, shifting a bit to get closer to but not quite touch Inferno. "Whereas I don't. So what I'm thinkin' is maybe we can cuddle up and share body heat and solve both our problems."

Silverbolt's mouth dropped open. "That would be most improper. What about her honour?"

"Hang it," said Quickstrike. "How's letting the poor girl freeze _honourable_?"

"It doesn't matter. She hasn't got any," grumbled Rattrap.

Silverbolt shot him a look somewhere between wounded and horrified. "I cannot _believe_ you could say such things about a lady! Here, I can give her my cloak ..."

"I _said_," rumbled Inferno, "that I am _fine_."

Her hand was inching its way towards her gun, maybe without her even knowing it. Inferno was the type of person who would respond to confusion, stress, or annoyance by shooting. Rattrap turned on the other two Maximals. "Back off, both of you."

"But ..."

"In case you two ain't noticed, you're fussin' over a Predacon warrior who could break you both in half without strainin' a piston - and I'm pretty sure she's considerin' it. If she says she doesn't need help, she _doesn't_."

The two new Maximals protested a bit but subsided, returning to their places around the fire. Inferno caught his gaze and nodded curtly, then resumed staring at the fire.

The nod hadn't been thanks, just acknowledgement, though whether it was Predacon ingratitude or recognising that Rattrap hadn't helped her out of kindness, he didn't know. _Just tryin' to keep you from performing a truce violation, Pred. You wanna freeze, be my guest._

_To be continued ...  
_


	7. Morning

He had tried to rest during the day, at the behest of friends and because he knew he should. It just hadn't worked. There were too many things to worry about and think about, so every time Optimus tried to lay down for a nap he was up again in minutes, unable to relax. As long as he was awake he might as well put himself on monitor duty instead of asking someone else to do it.

He tried to check his internal chronometer before remembering that he didn't have one any more and asked Sentinel the time instead. He'd been active for nearly a full rotation of the planet. Even two days ago he'd have been pushing it.

Optimus compulsively checked the scanners again. Everyone was back inside the _Axalon_ for the night except Rattrap and Inferno. They had probably just decided to stop wherever they were when night fell five megacycles ago, waiting for light. Optimus kept the scanners pointed towards Predacon territory and checked every few minutes anyway.

_At least the night watch is peaceful,_ he thought. Everyone else was asleep. Even the Predacons that'd had a chance to rest during the day were injured and unlikely to cause trouble.

He tugged his sleeves back down to his wrists and checked the _Axalon's_ environmental compensators. The read-out claimed the temperature was holding exactly where it had been set the day before. Optimus considered fiddling with it, then just folded his arms and rested his elbows on the console. _The temperature hasn't changed. I'm not really cold. I'm just imagining it to make busywork for myself._

Optimus let his head rest on his arms, closing eyes gone dry. _There's no immediate crisis. Any problems, there's nothing I can do about them until daybreak. Maybe I can stop worrying for a little while ..._

He was tired, so he didn't remember that one of the Predacons had been unconscious until late afternoon, was therefore quite awake, and she was probably the worst possible one to have loose in an unguarded base.

When Tarantulas wandered up from the xenobiology lab a while later and found Optimus asleep, she chose to save her questions until morning and spent a happy half-hour playing with the _Axalon's_ computers before she decided she was pushing her luck.

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Morning **

He came to awareness on the hard ground with an oddly soft, brown face peering down at him worriedly. "Rattrap? The sun is rising. You said you wished to be off."

His mind recognised the voice and forced down the automatic urge to pull his gun. _Right._ "Mornin', Silverbolt." _Last thing I did before falling asleep was wake Quickstrike up and put him on watch. I guess he musta got tired and got Silverbolt up. Kinda surprised. I thought he'd be more likely to hand it off to Inferno. Maybe he was actually listening when I told him that I didn't want a Predacon to keep watch._

He didn't get up just yet, taking stock of himself. _Ow. Sore all over, probably because this hard ground is no good for this soft body. And the inside of my mouth feels kind of dry and sticky. Ugh._ A drink of water or a bite of fruit would help, but they'd finished off their supplies the night before. _Well, if we get a move on, we'll be back at the_ Axalon _in maybe a megacycle and a half._

Rattrap got up to check on the other two members of his little party. Inferno, despite her claim that she didn't need to sleep unless Megatron ordered her to, was curled up on her side and breathing quietly. Quickstrike had apparently decided that 'Predacons don't want your help' only applied to conscious Predacons - he'd taken off his fringed drape and laid it over her like a small blanket. For his part, Quickstrike had decided to behave himself and was stretched out a couple of metres away.

Rattrap moved to prod Inferno with his foot, then paused. He carefully moved Inferno's gun out of her reach, then nudged her in the arm with the toe of his boot. "Hey, firebug. We're leaving."

Inferno reached for the hand-cannon, found it gone and was on her feet holding Rattrap off the ground by the front of his shirt, all in about three seconds. She dropped him after another two and growled. "Where is my weapon?" Rattrap stepped back to let her retrieve it.

The commotion woke Quickstrike, who was conscious and in a defensive pose almost immediately, but he relaxed when he realised there was no danger. He collected up his drape and shook the wasteland dust off it before putting it back on. Inferno must have been nearly dead with exhaustion not to have awakened when Quickstrike laid it on her.

Rattrap gave the campsite a quick look-over. The fire had gone out - quite a while ago, since it wasn't even smoking. Not that he'd have to worry about burning anything down in the wasteland, but he knew Tigatron would yell at him if he left it so much as smouldering.

Rattrap went back to the hoversled and waited for the others to follow. Quickstrike and Silverbolt were bickering, too quiet to hear, but their quick glances at Inferno made the topic plain enough. Rattrap shook his head. _There's somethin' seriously wrong with those two. Amnesia don't explain why they're fallin' all over themselves tryin' to be nice to an oversized Predacon._

* * *

"Morning, Dinobot. It's a bit chilly in here, isn't it?"

Dinobot's head snapped around halfway, then he grunted in pain and clutched at the back of his neck. "Slag!"

Airazor ran over to him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he snarled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I merely forgot that I'm not jointed as I was."

_You're even jumpier than usual. Of course, with these new bodies and Predacon houseguests, I can't really blame you. And don't think I didn't notice that the screen you'd been reading when I came in changed, exactly as if you didn't want me to see what you'd been doing._ But Dinobot was secretive by nature, and he'd been expecting a Predacon to sneak up on him, so it was probably nothing. "I'm surprised to find you on monitor duty. I thought you hated it."

"Someone has to do it," said Dinobot, swivelling his chair around, resigned to having company. The mark on his jaw had darkened from reddish to purple. Airazor hoped that wasn't a bad sign. She also knew he'd resent having it mentioned.

She said, "Anyone else been through this morning?"

"Tigatron. Rhinox. Megatron. Cheetor. Blackarachnia. Most simply returned to their rooms when they found nothing was happening." Dinobot gestured upwards with his thumb. "Tigatron is sitting on the roof."

Airazor looked up at the lightening sky. "I think I'll join her." Dinobot nodded and turned back to the computer screen.

The scout climbed up on the table in the middle of the room, jumped for a low-hanging cable, and caught it. She swung to a higher one, then climbed it up to the roof. _I'm going to have to add a ladder to someone's to-do list._

She spotted Tigatron sitting on one of the autogun emplacements, watching the sunrise. Airazor walked over and sat down next to her to share the view. "I hoped to see you last night, but I couldn't find you."

The tracker glanced over, then returned her gaze to the sunrise. "I was so tired after the hunt that all I managed to do upon my return was take a shower before falling asleep."

"I didn't think you had quarters here," said Airazor. Tigatron had only been inside the _Axalon_ a few times since her awakening from her stasis pod. The only times she would stay for longer than it took to deliver a report and chat a bit were the times she'd needed to use the CR-chamber.

"I didn't. I picked one out yesterday because I had to." She shook her head. "I had been tired enough yesterday not to care, but waking up inside the base was rather strange."

"You probably had more fun yesterday than I did, anyway. I was stuck on monitor duty most of the time. Heh, I never realised how hard the chairs were before. Catch anything?"

"We caught a nyala, but didn't manage to bring it back. Scavengers set upon us. We should have known better, but ..." Tigatron shrugged. "This whole situation has been a 'we should have known better' experience."

Airazor grinned. "Is that why you're wearing clothes again?"

"Only the barest minimum necessary," chuckled Tigatron. "Which turns out to be rather a lot." She had her pants, her short top, and her boots on again. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and inspected the tip. "I'm thinking of cutting my hair. I haven't found a purpose for long hair yet. It keeps the sun off the back of my neck, but it also blows into my face."

By now, the sun was too high to look at comfortably - the brightness only overloaded her vision before; now it hurt, and instead of clearing up as soon as she looked away, she found herself trying to blink greenish-black spots out of her eyes. Those faded after a minute, so instead of trying the sky again, Airazor looked down into the canyon that the _Axalon_ lay across. She'd swooped through that canyon dozens of times before, diving and pulling up to fly so fast and close to the water that it sprayed out behind her ...

She felt a sudden fear and flinched back, knuckles whitening on her perch. Tigatron glanced over. "What is it?"

Airazor managed to smile. "No wings. The canyon suddenly seems a lot deeper than it used to."

"It's humbling, isn't it?" said Tigatron. "All our skills we took for granted. All those things that had always been part of who we are. We all know so much, then find that what we know is useless. I thought I knew everything about how to be organic, only to find that knowing and being are completely different things."

Airazor laughed. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not like we could have predicted this."

"True."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then, "If we find a way to turn back," said Airazor slowly, "will you?"

"_No._ Maybe."

"Why no?"

"No matter how much I tried, I had only been a visitor on this planet before," said Tigatron. "Now I am a part of it."

"Why maybe?"

"Because you would turn back if you could, and I don't want to hold you back."

Airazor kicked her heels against the autogun emplacement. "We _do_ need to talk about this, don't we?"

"Mmhm."

The scout leaned back on her hands, looking up at the nearly cloudless sky. "You're still _you_, right? Same nature-loving introvert who'd rather prowl around a jungle than hang out at the base?"

"And you, who understands that solitude can be shared ... and who insists on cutting to the chase instead of wallowing in uncertainty," Tigatron finished with a chuckle, though she sobered quickly. "But this is important."

Airazor shrugged. "Why should the outside matter to me? What's important is here," she tapped Tigatron's forehead, "and here," and she touched her midsection where she used to carry her spark. It was worrying not to feel the quiet pulse of the tracker's spark even with her fingers right above where it should be. Airazor sought to lighten her mood and her mouth twitched up at one corner. "I'm pleased that you kept the stripes, though. I've always liked the stripes."

"Good. I'm glad."

Tigatron took her hand, twining her long fingers with Airazor's small ones. Airazor snuggled up against her shoulder. Real skin seemed softer than the pseudoflesh of their beast-modes, but that might have been nothing more than a lack of fur and feathers. It was an odd feeling, a kind of false intimacy. It _felt_ closer than metal or pseudoflesh because it was thin and yielding, but it was field-blind. There was only the physical now, without that special energy signature unique to Tigatron.

_There must be compensations,_ thought Airazor. _Scent, maybe; or taste. Or there's just visual subtleties I haven't picked up on yet - our faces are more mobile and expressive now, anyway._ She said, "I wish we knew if this was only temporary or not. I don't see how we could reverse it but it just seems too strange to be real."

"I wonder about that as well. I ... want to _be_ out there, Airazor," said Tigatron quietly. "If there is only a little time like this, let it be out in the wilds. On the hunt yesterday, it felt like ... like the whole world flowed through me. Like ..." Her face had been upturned, hand stretched out to catch the sun, but she closed her eyes and drew her hand back against her chest. "I cannot explain it. Let me show you."

Airazor glanced back at the roof hatch. "We should find out if they need us for anything today, first."

* * *

Once the lift stopped, Inferno barely glanced around the control centre before marching off into the depths of the _Axalon_. Rattrap reached out and caught Quickstrike's drape to keep him from following. "Hey, no, no, no. She's gonna check in with her boss, we're gonna check in with ours." He stepped off the lift and looked around. "Hiya, Rhinox. Where's Optimus?"

Rhinox, at the second console from the right, shrugged. "Not up yet. I thought you were just supposed to _look_ at the pods."

"Enh, they were open when we got there. 'S why we're late." Rattrap set his toolbox down on the nearest chair and started digging through it. "Anyway, the neophytes are Quickstrike and Silverbolt. I'll let you look 'em over later, but right now I gotta make sure they're fuelled and all so they don't fall over on me. And I got their pod datatracks, if you could look 'em over for me."

The engineer accepted the circuits. "Of course."

"They got scrambled by energon radiation, just so you know what you're gonna be looking at," said Rattrap, then turned back to his charges. "Come on, you two."

The new Maximals followed him. "Should we not have stayed to make proper introductions?" asked Silverbolt.

"Later," said Rattrap. "Anyway, that was Rhinox." He didn't feel he needed to elaborate. He'd been telling them about the others on the way back, with Inferno interrupting whenever he said something less than complimentary about the Predacons, which was often.

The xenobotany lab was already occupied when they arrived. "Hey, just the primate I was hopin' to see," said Rattrap. "Lookin' furry, boss. You gettin' your beast-mode back without tellin' us?"

Optimus chuckled and rubbed at the fuzz on his chin. "I could say the same for you. I see you made it back safely."

"Was there any doubt? Meet our new Maximals - Quickstrike and Silverbolt." Rattrap turned to his charges. "You neophytes, this is your boss and mine - Optimus Primal."

Silverbolt bowed deeply. "It will be my honour to serve as a Maximal, Optimus Primal. I hope that my skills will be equal to whatever task is set and that I will perform my duties to your satisfaction."

Quickstrike grinned and tossed off a vague salute. "Hey."

"Welcome, both of you. I'm glad we found you," said Optimus, but his smile faded. "Are you all right?"

"What, you mean this?" asked Quickstrike, holding up his right arm. His hand was clean, but a splash of blood darkened the brown fabric of his sleeve. There was less on Silverbolt's clothes but it showed up better on the light gray. "Shoot, this ain't ours. Had a bit of a run-in with a critter. Nothin' we couldn't handle," he said proudly while Silverbolt looked away.

"Sounded like a sick lion from their description," said Rattrap, handing out fruit and water before taking some for himself.

"What delayed you?"

"Aw, these two wandered off so we hadda go chase 'em, then it got dark," Rattrap said around a mouthful of fruit. He swallowed. "There's, ah, some bad news, too," he said, taking a few metal shards from his pocket and handing them to Optimus. Even without their robotic senses they could recognise shell-grade plating. "There was a third pod."

The Maximal leader nodded. "I'll send someone to pick him up."

"What about that pod Rhinox went out to look at?"

Optimus shrugged. "It was a blank." He turned to the other two. "So, what are your primaries?"

Quickstrike and Silverbolt looked blank. "Don't bother askin' 'em too many questions," said Rattrap. "They got damaged datatracks. Energon, you know. I'll explain more when we get back to the command centre."

The door opened. "Oh, great," rasped Terrorsaur. Despite hearing him the day before, it still amazed Rattrap that the air warrior could sound worse than he usually did. Even more surprising was that he _looked_ worse - the burns on the air warrior's face had gone from red and wet to white and waxy. Terrorsaur put his hands on his hips, one holding the canteen he'd taken the day before. "More Maximals. The pods never just crash and explode, do they?"

Rattrap jabbed a finger at the Predacon. "One did, you noisemaker!"

Terrorsaur's gaze flicked to Optimus briefly. "He said there were two ..."

"A smashed pod means a smashed tracking beacon, idiot!"

Where there was one, there was usually the other. Waspinator pushed into the room to back her partner up. "Oh, yes, Predacons supposed to just _know_ things so they don't hurt poor little Maximal feelings!" The rasp stood out more in the scout, who usually had a rather liquid voice.

It was a small room for Cybertronians and not much bigger for whatever they were now. Rhinox had wanted a separate xenobotany lab so the space had simply been sheared off the xenobiology lab. There was work space for two large mechs. Four smallish organics just hanging out was a bit cozy. Add in two tense Predacons spoiling for a fight, and it was crowded.

It probably would have come to blows if Optimus hadn't been there. "He didn't know it when he said it," said Optimus quietly, but with meaningful glares towards both Rattrap and the Predacons.

Terrorsaur caught the hint, and while he didn't apologise, at least he shut up. Pointedly ignoring the Maximals, he set about collecting up breakfast. Waspinator waited for him, looking over the Maximals with distaste. For a moment, Rattrap thought it was odd that she was paying more attention to him and Optimus than the neophytes, then it clicked in. _Ha. Me and Optimus are the established threats. Waspinator's not just trailing around after Terrorsaur because she's got nothing better to do, she's not just waiting around; she's watching his back._

Cheerfully oblivious to the lines of tension drawn across the room, Quickstrike walked right over to Waspinator and grinned up at her. "Well, hey there, sugar. S'long as we're all cosied up in here, I figure I oughta introduce myself. The name's Quickstrike."

She eyed him warily and didn't answer, unhappy at being singled out by the enemy. Quickstrike leaned a bit closer. "Aw, no need to be scared of _me_, sugar. I'm just tryin' to be friendly ..."

"And _this_ is Silverbolt," said Rattrap, shoving the tall Maximal forward so that he bumped into Quickstrike, who yelped in surprised annoyance. "Might as well get the introductions over with, eh? Wouldn't want anyone to be startled by new faces."

"Diplomatic," murmured Optimus.

"Quickstrike was gonna touch her," Rattrap whispered back. It hadn't been a problem with Inferno - she knew Quickstrike wasn't a threat. Waspinator was nervous and would have taken a swing at Quickstrike before realising he wasn't trying to hurt her.

Terrorsaur turned around and pushed the filled canteen into Waspinator's hands. "Are we on display now?" he snarled.

"I'm showing our 'bots off, too," said Rattrap. "Terrorsaur, Waspinator, these are Quickstrike and Silverbolt. Quickstrike, Silverbolt, these are Terrorsaur and Waspinator. They're Predacons, so feel free to make fun of their names and-or voices." Waspinator caught the insult, but not the dig at her injuries, and made a face at him. Terrorsaur picked up on both and gave him a glare that would have once sheared through rock.

"I am honoured to meet both of you," said Silverbolt gravely, then nodded to Terrorsaur and half-bowed to Waspinator.

"It ain't fair that the Preds got most of the babes," sighed Quickstrike.

Terrorsaur gave him an appraising look. "Well, finally a Maximal with some taste."

"Was I talkin' to you?"

Terrorsaur's look turned into a glare. Waspinator blinked. "Maximal is calling _Waspinator_ pretty?"

"I guess she wasn't a bad looking helicopter back on Cybertron," said Terrorsaur. "But in _that_ body? With those damages?"

"He was not looking at her face," muttered Silverbolt.

Waspinator snickered and punched Terrorsaur in the arm. "Terror-bot is jealous! Maximal thinks Waspinator is prettier than terror-bot! Waspinator _never_ gets to be prettier than terror-bot!"

Terrorsaur punched her back. "He's the only one that thinks so."

The scout just laughed at him. It turned into a coughing fit but once she got it under control she grinned at her partner again. Terrorsaur snatched up two fruits from the bin, put one in Waspinator's free hand, then grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out. "Come on. I'm feeling crowded."

Once they finished eating, the four Maximals went back up to the command centre. Rattrap clapped his hands together. "What've you got for me, Rhinox?"

The engineer huffed quietly and glanced back. "No miracles today, I'm afraid. These datatracks are pretty hopelessly scrambled," he said, pointing out lines and lines of corrupted code on the screen. "And not only are the datatracks a mess, the scanners glitched as well. As far as I can tell, there're at least two DNA patterns in each of their replication tracks."

"I feel _fine_, just a mite confused," protested Quickstrike.

"Depending on the type of damages and how extensive they are, the pods can produce perfectly viable Maximals," said Optimus, walking over to read the screen over Rhinox's shoulder. Quickstrike and Silverbolt stepped around on either side of the engineer to look, though they likely had no idea how to interpret the information on the screen. "We're a tough species. Well, usually. At least that trait seems to have held over in terms of the pods, anyway."

"The multiple DNA patterns probably don't even matter now," said Rhinox. "Our beast-modes didn't have any effect on our current bodies that I can see beyond determining sex and who's got stripes. It's the datatracks that I'm more worried about. There's an overlap that I don't understand."

"Well, the pods were right next to each other," said Rattrap. Unable to see over anyone's head, he stepped up on the chair behind Rhinox and leaned over his shoulder. "You think they scanned each other?"

"If their pods realised their datatracks were damaged and both tried to fill in the missing pieces from the other ..." Optimus started. "I've never heard of it but it might be a possibility."

Rattrap glanced down to see how the new Maximals were taking the information and found them regarding each other with identical expressions of disgust; _the thought that I'm anything like _you_ displeases me._ "I dunno," said Rattrap. "They seem pretty much opposite personality-wise except for the sex hang-up."

"It is not a 'hang-up'," Silverbolt protested.

"Just 'cause _you_ can't see it," muttered Quickstrike.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Rattrap. "You two hang out with Rhinox here a minute. I gotta report in."

He and Optimus walked around to the other side of the command centre for a bit of privacy. "It ain't all fun and hecklin' the neophytes," said Rattrap. "You heard Rhinox. Their pods were damaged and they soaked up an awful lot of energon radiation. 'Strike and 'Bolt seem okay physically - y'know, such as we are - and they seem to have at least a bit more than basic programming, but unless Rhinox works some magic, their identity circuits were totally fried."

"Define 'totally'."

Rattrap shook his head. "Almost totally - they've got things like 'I am myself and you are yourself' down but that's about it. They didn't even have names at first, just made 'em up on the spot out of words they liked the meanings of. They know words like 'Maximal' but they just can't connect it to anything. It's like ... like ..." Rattrap reached into his pocket and took out the feather he'd found at the crash site. There was a bit of scrub grass clinging to it. He picked it off and held it up. "Say we're on Cybertron and I'm just a regular 'bot who's never been off-planet. I've heard the word 'grass' but I've never seen it before. Now, make me understand what it is."

Optimus took the strand from Rattrap's fingers. "Well, it's a plant ..."

"Ah-ah," Rattrap chided. "I don't know what a plant is, either."

"Organic ..."

"Heard of it, but don't believe in it," said Rattrap. "All I know is Cybertron and metal - organic life is science fiction. It can't _possibly_ exist. It's too soft!"

Optimus sighed. "What are you getting at?"

"They don't know who they are and I doubt we'll be able to figure out who they were supposed to be. They think Predacons are exactly like Maximals, except maybe bigger. And ..." Rattrap spread his hands, defeated. "They don't believe they're Transformers. They're sure they're organics."

"Interesting."

"Try 'maddening'."

"It gives us an idea of the nature of what the aliens did to us," said Optimus. "Protoforms are left unaffected - the one Rhinox found was still just a perfectly ordinary blank protoform. Quickstrike and Silverbolt must have gone straight from protoform to organic or they'd know those aren't their true forms. Either the energy from the alien device is still around and changing protoforms as they awaken or the aliens are still watching. If they are, we might not be _allowed_ to regain our true forms."

"Maybe ... what if the energy wave reprogrammed the pods? If the aliens can turn us into meat, it's not too crazy to think they can do the same to our nanotech. If we got there before the pods opened on their own, maybe we could reset them." Rattrap shook his head. "But, y'know, I don't think they could have gone straight from protoform to organic. Silverbolt has that feathered cape - why would he have it unless he had wings first?"

Optimus nodded. "And this 'hang-up' you mentioned?"

Rattrap shrugged. "Well, when I was fillin' 'em in on the way back, tellin' 'em a bit about everyone, it was one of the details they insisted on. Like, Tigatron's a field biologist, a tracker, a warrior, an environmentalist, first stasis pod we found on this planet, used to be a tiger ... you'd think that'd be enough for anybody, but they don't think a description is complete without sex."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's pretty much focused on just the females - and they could tell physical gender right away," said Rattrap. "Quickstrike'll ogle and flirt, but he might just like the look of 'em. Silverbolt seems to think they should be treated special, like they're fragile or delicate or somethin'," Rattrap explained. "If you were watchin' 'Bolt instead of the air goons, his expression didn't flicker when Waspinator punched Terrorsaur, but he scowled when Terrorsaur hit her back. And I'm sure that if it'd been Terrorsaur standin' guard, Quickstrike would have walked right past him to talk to Waspinator."

Optimus lifted an eyebrow. "The first people they saw were you and _Inferno_. Wouldn't the first inference be that the females of this species are much larger and stronger than the males?" He considered that. "If we're a sexually dimorphic species now ... Do you think they might have ended up with instincts instead of programming?"

"I just observe it, I don't understand it. I'll leave the science to you scientists. Anyway, I figure the first thing I oughta do after sortin' stuff out with you is introduce 'em around. We don't need some jumpy Predacon panicking and going off on them or Dinobutt yellin' that we're lettin' unauthorised primates in."

Rattrap collected up his charges and vanished back into the _Axalon_. Optimus turned back to Rhinox. "Anyone available for a field trip this morning?"

"Cheetor and Dinobot are still around. I sent Tigatron and Airazor out with the loader drone and the updated list of edible plants less than two megacycles ago." Rhinox shrugged. "I wouldn't mind an excuse to get out."

Optimus nodded. "The pod you found needs to be brought back here, and Rattrap says there was a third pod that was destroyed near were Quickstrike and Silverbolt were found. The protoform died after solidification but wasn't turned organic."

"Hmm. Not the most pleasant job," said Rhinox.

"I can go myself if you can handle the Predacons," said Optimus. "I think Cheetor would appreciate getting out, even if one of the tasks is rather morbid."

"And you'd prefer Dinobot here since all the Preds are here."

"Yes."

* * *

Inferno hadn't immediately gone to report to Megatron. She tried to convince herself that taking a shower first was the right thing to do, that the report wasn't so important that it had to be given immediately, that it was right and respectful and proper to have taken the detour.

She tried not to think of the word 'stalling'.

_It is not my place to know the mind of the Queen,_ Inferno told herself sternly. _His plans are subtle. I am but one small part of them. It is not for me to question._

_It is for me to _burn_._

She finally stopped outside Megatron's quarters and rested her forehead against the metal of the door. _The Maximals _armed_ me, they handed me the chance to wipe them all out, but you told me to assist them instead. My Queen, my Queen, I obey but the struggle to stay my fire is great!_

Then she stood up straight, set her shoulders, and went in.

The Royalty was asleep again, which was a relief. He always complained when she checked up on him; especially now, so weak, so vulnerable, and hating his weakness and vulnerability. He was sitting on the berth, propped up against the wall. Back at the Colony he almost always slept in a chair, and this room didn't have one. Inferno scowled. Even that simple need was not attended to.

She stood in front of him and leaned over to look at him. The lack of lava stench meant that one of the others actually did follow through and look after him. Good. Inferno hated to leave the care of the Royalty to anyone else, unreliable as they were.

Sometimes they or even Megatron himself told her he could look after himself perfectly well. Inferno knew that, but it wasn't the point. The point was that he shouldn't have to.

Inferno very gently brushed Megatron's hair back, careful not to touch his skin. The gesture uncovered his face, which made her flinch - the burns were _wrong_. This was _Megatron_, the Royalty, the Queen, bearing damages that he should have been too strong to receive, damages caused by Inferno's element. It made her feel as if she had betrayed him somehow, as if she should have been able to command the heat away.

She sighed sadly, tucking his hair behind his ear. "My Queen ..."

Megatron coughed and before Inferno could get away he'd caught her wrist and stood, twisting her arm behind her back. His other forearm wrapped around her throat, so tight she couldn't breathe. "Oh, for the love of ... Inferno! Can't you report in like a normal Predacon just once in your life?"

Inferno drove her left elbow back into Megatron's chest. Surprise and pain made him loosen his grip and Inferno broke away. She turned, dropped into a fighting crouch automatically, then remembered just who she was fighting and drew back in shame. "I'm sorry, Royalty! I shouldn't have ..." Usually Inferno simply accepted whatever punishment the Royalty meted out. He'd caught her by the throat often enough before, but this time she panicked.

He was sitting on the edge of the berth, rubbing at the spot where she'd struck him. "I only let you in my quarters because here and now I appreciate the idea of having a bodyguard. I may have to reconsider this if you're going to cause more trouble than you prevent, yes."

"It will not happen again, Royalty," Inferno promised, returning to Megatron to check on his injury. There was no mark on him but of course any sign would be on his skin, not on his shirt.

Megatron swatted her hands away from where they were tugging at his shirt. "What have I told you about fussing over me?"

"I-I'm sorry, Royalty. I thought ..."

"You don't think, you obey," Megatron snapped. "I just wish you would put more time into obeying _me_ instead of your compulsions. I don't want to hear apologies or excuses, just, 'yes, Megatron'."

"Yes ..." Inferno stopped. Something was wrong.

"Inferno?"

She leaned closer and, despite Megatron's protests, carefully sniffed him. "No ..."

"Inferno, you will explain yourself."

Inferno staggered back, the fundamental shape of her universe crumbling around her. "You are not the Queen. _You are not the Queen!_"

"What? Inferno!"

Megatron didn't give chase when the warrior fled the room. In the corridor, Inferno stopped, uncertain where to go. Scorponok ... Scorponok never even tried to understand. The spiders ... but the spiders were treacherous and always lied to her. Waspinator ... Waspinator had been a hive insect and she was female. Yes. Waspinator had the best chance of understanding. However, she wasn't in her room. A quick search found her in a cargo bay. For once she wasn't with Terrorsaur but neither was she alone.

Waspinator was cheerfully, though not energetically, picking through a crate. "Hello, ant-bot. Waspinator is helping Scorponok even though Scorponok has fingers now."

"_Damaged_ fingers," Scorponok grumbled. Unlike the others, he had burns on the backs of his hands as well as on his face. There was a bit of a ragged look to the injuries, the white waxiness torn and showing the wet red underneath. "Looking for something?"

Inferno decided not to take Waspinator somewhere else to talk. If nothing else, Scorponok knew Megatron better than any of them. Inferno made sure the door closed behind her. "We have a crisis."

The scout blinked up at her, then lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Bigger problem than whole 'wrong bodies' thing?"

"It is related, but yes."

Scorponok glanced around nervously, as if expecting an ambush. "The truce is over already?"

"It isn't about the Maximals," said Inferno. "I need advice."

"Ooh, thinking problem, not shooting problem," said Waspinator, folding her arms to lean them on the crate. "Waspinator usually gets away in one piece from those."

For whatever it was worth, she had their attention. Inferno closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself, then, "It is Megatron. He is ..." Inferno paused and corrected herself, switching from the neutral Cybertronian pronoun to an organic one. "_He_ is _male_."

Scorponok just blinked at her. "So?" She had known Scorponok would be no help.

"_It's not right!_"

"Inferno ... you know they've been saying I'm male now too, right?" asked Scorponok slowly. Inferno nodded. "You seem fine with _me_."

"You are not so important," said Inferno. "Our numbers are so low that I can accept a drone acting as a soldier. But Megatron is the _Queen_."

"Ant-bot _did_ realise everyone was using gendered pronouns, yes?" asked Waspinator. "Other-bots been calling Megatron male since Predacons got here. Why ant-bot not notice?"

Inferno slumped. "I thought they were all _wrong_. They _had_ to be."

"I can understand you not being able to tell sexes apart," said Scorponok. "I know I'm just taking everyone's word on the pronouns - but how come you just realised Megatron's male _now_? You saw him when we first showed up, you helped him up when he collapsed yesterday, and I'll bet you spent your free time watching him sleep. What changed?"

"It is ... I can tell by scent. The stench of the lava covered it before."

"Megatron smelled female before the change?" asked Waspinator.

"No. He merely smelled like himself." Inferno sighed. "It is how I know he is Megatron and not some impostor. He is Megatron ... but is he still the Queen?"

"What? He's still our lord, if you want to be all formal about it."

Inferno slammed her fist down on a crate in frustration, causing Waspinator to jump. "Not 'lord', 'Queen'! Female-pronoun-lord, _she_ who is the _life_ of the colony! It's a very specific concept and this language cannot express it correctly!" She punched the crate again, then looked down at the others. "What am I supposed to _do_?"

"Obey him?" suggested Waspinator. "Megatron is still Megatron on the inside, is just squashy on the outside now."

"But he even _acts_ wrong!" Inferno shouted. "Why are we playing at this truce? The Maximals are soft now. We could destroy them easily!"

"We're _all_ soft. And some of us aren't in any condition to destroy anything," said Scorponok. "We need them for now. They've got a better idea of how these bodies work than we do."

"Ooh, Waspinator knows," said Waspinator, and ticked points off on her fingers. "Aliens caused the problem. Megatron has alien disc. Alien disc seems best bet to get un-squishied. Only bot who understands alien disc is Megatron. Therefore Predacons do what Megatron says. Logic." She gave a satisfied nod.

Waspinator's arguments always baffled Inferno but at least her fellow hive-worker seemed certain about Megatron's role as leader. "I will ... consider that."

Inferno left. Scorponok looked over at the scout. "You know if Terrorsaur were here, he'd be kicking you for not declaring yourself queen."

"Pthibbit. Waspinator has no un-squishing plan and neither does terror-bot. Waspinator sticks with Megatron for now." She shook her head. "Ant-bot can't _really_ smell gender, can she?"

"Who knows?" Scorponok frowned. "I doubt Inferno's sense of smell was enhanced. I'd think it was probably damped badly - her beast-mode had excellent chemoreceptors. But our minds weren't rewired to fit these bodies, so she still acts like scent is her primary sense. It's the sense she trusts the most."

Waspinator hummed a bit. "Should we tell Megatron about this?"

"He already knows," said Scorponok. "Megatron always knows."

_To be continued ..._


	8. Ill Feelings: Part 1

_Four days,_ Optimus thought again and it still surprised him. Four days of strange bodies and Predacon houseguests. Sometimes it felt like it had always been like this; that it was perfectly normal to, for example, encounter an organic primate female in the xenobiology lab and know it was Tarantulas. At other times they were reminded quite drastically that the situation was strange and new, such as the business about the need for a lavatory three days ago. The primary waste product of the Cybertronian metabolism was heat, sometimes gas in extreme cases. _Well, hopefully that was the last of the big surprises ..._

Sleep happened, rather more of it than he was used to, and it left him feeling inefficient. It was also harder to return to full consciousness than it used to be and Optimus rubbed at his eyes as he walked up to the command centre on heavy feet. They'd come up with a schedule. Shorter shifts than before to compensate for weaker bodies but it was the closest thing to normal that the Maximals had.

The Predacons didn't follow it. They didn't seem to have a schedule at all. Oddly, there was a pattern - where the Maximals thought it most sensible to go to bed at sunset and wake up early, the Predacons tended to stay up at night and wake up at sunrise. Since the equatorial night was twelve hours long and they were stuck inside during the dark hours, this gave each faction four hours more or less alone on the _Axalon_.

Optimus had hoped to catch Airazor before she got off shift but he'd woken up too late and Rattrap had already taken over monitor duty. Within the last few minutes, since he was still running through the preliminary checks. "Morning, Rattrap."

"Hey, boss." Rattrap didn't turn, still fiddling with the monitors.

Then Optimus noticed what Rattrap was actually watching. "Why are you checking the cameras in here?"

"Just makin' sure the Preds were behavin' overnight."

The first shift of the night, where the Predacons were still awake after the Maximals had gone to sleep, had immediately been dubbed the Predacon Megacycle. Just as quickly, Dinobot had staked his claim on it, declaring that he was the one most able to determine between suspicious and perfectly innocent activity in the Predacons. "I'm sure there was no trouble."

"I don't trust the Preds to leave him alone. And I don't trust that he won't listen to 'em."

"If you're so worried about it, trade shifts."

Rattrap made a derisive noise. "Think I didn't try? He chased me off."

Skimming through the security footage showed Dinobot perfectly alone for four hours. He seemed bored but attentive - he was disciplined enough not to call up a computer game or doze off. "You worry even more than I do," said Optimus.

"Enh, Megs only left him alone 'cause he knows we have cameras in here," said Rattrap. Dismissing the topic, he glanced at the corridor. "The neophytes are late. Silverbolt's usually on time and Quickstrike's always in here before everybody. I'd swear he doesn't actually sleep except I've seen him do it."

Rattrap got back to what he was supposed to be doing, checking weather reports and scanning for stasis pods. Optimus rather liked to watch him work - there was an efficiency in him that Optimus hadn't expected when Rattrap first joined the crew. He didn't rush through his tasks; there just wasn't any wasted movement.

After a few minutes, Optimus left to get breakfast and to check on the rest of his crew, at least the ones who were awake. Becoming organic was an insane, unforeseeable occurrence and his crew had accepted the challenge. Most of them were upset about the change but it didn't stop them from accepting, adapting, and doing their jobs as best they could given new limitations. _I expected no different and no less from them. They're good people._

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
**** Ill Feelings - part one **

"This is Cybertropolis. This doin' anything for you, 'Strike?"

"No."

"Nuts. 'Cause I figure you must be from the Iacon area. You kinda got the accent ..."

There was never an expedition that had as many problems with stasis pods as the _Axalon_ mission did, Optimus thought. Granted, a space battle with a pack of Predacon outlaws and subsequent crash landing on a planet with too much raw energon weren't exactly usual circumstances. The result was that everyone who had come out of a stasis pod had amnesia to some degree.

Which in the current situation had very strange consequences. Quickstrike and Silverbolt had no memories of Maximals, of Cybertron, or of metal. As far as they were concerned, they had always been organic beings.

They were with Rattrap now, who was combining monitor duty with showing them a film about Cybertron on the central workstation's holographic projector. Optimus wasn't sure how helpful that would be given that the neophytes flatly disbelieved the datafiles on the Maximal and Predacon crews that showed them in their robot bodies. Optimus sat at the scanner station and watched the film for a while without recognising it. It was slow-paced and had long, sweeping shots of cityscapes, so he guessed it was one Rhinox had brought. There was no plot, just a narrator reciting the occasional poem.

Which seemed to be exactly what Rattrap wanted. As soon as the narrator finished, he'd cut in. "This is Tylus City. It's called that 'cause it's actually four cities in a triangle - one in the middle and three as the points. Looks real nice from orbit. The one at the northern tip used to be called Sunix ..."

"What's up, big bot?"

Optimus shushed Cheetor, who had just bounced in. "I think Rattrap's hoping to trigger their memories with pictures of Cybertron. New clothes?"

"The shoes are," said Cheetor but quieter so he wouldn't interrupt Rattrap. "I think they'll be easier to run in if they don't cover my ankles. The rest is just cutting bits off for ventilation." He'd taken the sleeves off his shirt and cut the legs off his trousers above the knees. Then, "I don't think the pictures will work. Me and Airazor tried that with Tigatron once." Compared to the others, Airazor was practically undamaged. She still had part of her early life on Cybertron. Some of her memories were actually Cheetor's but not enough to cause her too much confusion.

Neither Quickstrike nor Silverbolt had been put on full shifts yet because of their amnesia. Optimus was quite sure they'd obey any 'Don't let the Predacons mess with this' order but Rattrap and Dinobot had ganged up on him and loudly insisted that the neophytes be taught why exactly there was a difference between the factions before they were assigned to anything important. So Optimus had delegated Quickstrike and Silverbolt's education to Rattrap and Dinobot. Not that the newcomers needed any encouragement. Without their official teachers around they would latch onto whoever was available and in the absence of other people they would get into the _Axalon's_ records. They might not believe they were Transformers but they found it all fascinating anyway. Usually. Quickstrike was fidgeting in his seat, restless and unhappy about sitting still for so long.

He was doing better than Cheetor, who grew bored after only a few minutes. "What's it like outside? It's not going to rain, is it?"

Optimus reached back and activated the console he was sitting at. "Not yet. It looks like it'll be sunny and hot today."

"I'm going to go for a run before it heats up too much."

"Be careful," Optimus admonished.

The scout grinned. "Hey, I know for a _fact_ that there's no Preds out there."

"There's animals. Arm yourself anyway."

"But carrying a gun will slow me down!" Cheetor caught Optimus' look and sighed. "Fine. I'll hit my quarters before I go outside."

Optimus reached up and lightly scratched the back of Cheetor's neck, just under the hair. "Good."

Cheetor grinned and disappeared back into the ship. Optimus suddenly realised he hadn't heard Rattrap's voice for a few minutes and found the other three watching him - Rattrap amused, Quickstrike listless, and Silverbolt with the frown of disapproval he seemed to wear most of the time. "Sorry. We weren't trying to be disruptive."

"Enh, no problem. It's not like there's much to interrupt in this film." Rattrap shrugged. "Don't worry about the kid. There's not many big critters around the base any more. Whatever wasn't scared off by the fighting around here, Dinobot ate. They know robots are trouble and it ain't been long enough for 'em to notice we ain't robots no more. I'd be more worried about whether he brought a chronometer so's he shows up on time for his shift."

"Never _were_ robots," Quickstrike muttered. Silverbolt shushed him.

The three of them got back to watching the movie. Optimus activated the monitor at his station and tried to find Cheetor with the outside cameras. He seemed to be headed towards the plain.

Several minutes later, Dinobot walked in and stood near Optimus, arms folded across his chest, watching Rattrap and the neophytes. "No doubt Rattrap is filling their heads with all sorts of nonsense," the warrior rumbled quietly.

"It's an art film," said Optimus.

Dinobot's eyebrows almost vanished beneath his headband. "I'm surprised you're allowing ... Wait. A real art film or a Maximal art film?"

"It's someone reading poetry about landscapes."

"Ah," said Dinobot. "_Maximal_ art."

"What's wrong with Maximal art?" asked Optimus. "What's the difference?"

"No one died to make this."

He always found it hard to tell when Dinobot was kidding. Optimus decided to let it slide. "What are your plans for the morning?"

"Quickstrike and Silverbolt will be handed over to me once this shift is up. I plan on starting them sparring." At Optimus' pained look, Dinobot growled. "I am a _warrior_. What did you _expect_ me to teach them?"

"Mostly I want you to balance out Rattrap's opinions," said Optimus. "He can be ... emphatic."

"Silverbolt is naïve. Such things can be worked on. Quickstrike is looking forward to my lessons."

"I suppose it would be too optimistic to hope they might not need combat training," said Optimus. "Which brings me to another point ..."

Dinobot made a derisive noise. "Hnh. Predacon business."

"I'm going to ask Megatron if he's up to going back to the Predacon base."

"Do not _ask_ him," said Dinobot. "_Order_ him."

"I'm not going to play macho power-games with Megatron, Dinobot."

The warrior shook his head. "He does not want you treating him as if he were weak. Order him as if he were strong."

"But what if he doesn't feel up to it?"

"Then he will make an excuse or argue you out of your plan. Do not worry for his health. Megatron is more than capable of taking care of himself." Then, "If he does decide he wishes to return, I ask that I accompany him. I have a better chance of detecting treachery in him than you do."

Optimus nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

"All right, cuttin' it off here 'cause the shift's up," said Rattrap. "There's six more megacycles of ... I _heard_ that, 'Strike."

"You were meant to," said Quickstrike, folding his arms across his chest, completely unapologetic for his disgusted snort. "I ain't sittin' through no more landscapes."

"It's cultural!" Rattrap insisted.

"Now you're just blowin' exhaust! It's plain boring is what it is!"

"Culture isn't dull!"

"Perhaps _Maximal_ culture is," said Dinobot, walking around the central workstation to loom over Rattrap. "Shall we trade lesson plans tomorrow?"

Rattrap whirled on Dinobot, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Don't you _dare_ teach 'em how to be Preds!"

"And here I'd always been told that _true_ art transcends faction." Dinobot sighed theatrically. "But I suppose it's for the best, unless I want to find you've taught them how to shoot people in the back."

"It's a useful skill!" Rattrap insisted. Silverbolt snapped around to fix him with a _you _can't _be serious_ expression.

"So, were you planning to teach them how to fight by demonstrating?" Optimus asked mildly.

Dinobot took a step back. Rattrap turned away to pick at the console. "They're all yours, chopperface," he grumbled. "Try not to break 'em."

"At least I will teach them something useful," Dinobot countered, unable to resist getting the last dig in, walking to the lift with the neophytes in his wake, both dragging their feet. In Silverbolt that was expected - he never seemed thrilled with the idea of violence. In Quickstrike it was strange. _Maybe he just didn't sleep well._

"I _liked_ the movie," Silverbolt reassured Rattrap as the lift descended.

His shift was up but Rattrap stuck around, idly scrolling through the small catalogue of films they'd taken from Cybertron. Optimus set about arranging things for his shift, checking the various cameras. There had already been ones installed in the more sensitive areas of the ship but they'd added some in the laboratories and hallways. The Predacons were behaving themselves so far but he knew better than to trust them. Optimus glanced over at Rattrap. "I didn't think you were into art films."

Rattrap shrugged. "I'm not, I just wanted somethin' with pictures of Cybertron in. Not usually the views _I_ see, but ... y'know."

"I know." _Homesick ... Rattrap's been upset about leaving Cybertron since we crashed here. It seems incongruous in someone who signed up to be a long-term, long-range explorer, but there's a difference between willingly going away and being forced to stay away._

"Optimus?"

Optimus looked back to find Rhinox standing by the entrance to the hallway with something like a toolbox on a strap over his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows. "What happened to ...?"

The engineer chuckled, running a hand over his smooth, dark scalp. "I was getting furry on the sides so I thought I'd just take it all off." He still had his short beard, however.

"You'll have to tell me how you did it." Optimus had no problems with the hair on his head or the rest of his body but he found facial hair to be itchy and he thought the shaggy growth looked odd on himself. Even as a gorilla the area around his mouth hadn't had fur.

"What I don't get is why it's just us," said Rattrap. 'Us' being Optimus, Rattrap, Rhinox, and Quickstrike. Cheetor was also fairly fuzzy but since it was fine and downy it wasn't very noticeable. "I thought it mighta been something to do with our beast-modes since none of the Preds got much hair on 'em, but then how come Tigatron ain't got a beard?"

"It might just be random genetics," said Optimus.

Rattrap tugged his ponytail over his shoulder and frowned at it. "I dunno. Everything else has been analogued, y'know? I'm still short and coppery and even this long hair hangs kinda like my rat-tail used to in robot-mode and Rhinox is still big and ... well, he ain't green no more, but he was a brown rhino and Tigatron's still got her stripes and Cheetor's got his spots even if they're tiny ... There's not a lot of random here."

"We'll figure it out," said Rhinox. "Optimus, I'll show you how I shaved my head after your shift." He dug a datadisc out of his toolbox and handed it to his leader. "I was looking at the code from Quickstrike and Silverbolt's pods again. You know how I said before how I think the pods scanned one another to fill in missing bits of their datatracks?" Rhinox asked. "Now I'm sure. I've found identical strings of code in their pods' circuits. I'm not sure who the original was but my guess is Quickstrike. It seems to match his code more than it matches Silverbolt's."

Optimus inserted the disc into the computer. Data filled the screen in no pattern he could immediately determine. "Do you know what it says?"

"No. The best I can tell you is that it's part of their personality programming."

"Maybe it's the gender issues," chuckled Optimus. "Though why they have them at all is beyond me."

"Maybe one of them was our lab biologist. I don't know why anyone else would be interested." Rhinox leaned over Optimus' shoulder to reach the console, then tapped a few keys and brought up more code. "I think the pods scanning each other is why they've at least got their basic functions but not personal memories. Whatever one was missing the other could fill in."

"Hm." Optimus frowned. "Sparks hold memories. Is there a way we could tap into that?"

"We couldn't even attempt it without our spark surgeon, and he's in one of the stasis pods. But their spark-memories might just resurface naturally," said Rhinox, then smiled slightly. "I'm taking the morning off, though. Rattrap insisted."

Rattrap appeared at Rhinox's side and thumped him lightly on the back. "Enh, you've been starin' at code and pod parts for two days straight," he said, then turned to Optimus. "We're headin' out, boss. Not too far, though. If the Preds act up, you can give us a yell."

They left. Optimus fiddled with the outside scanners. Rattrap and Rhinox seemed to be headed in the same general direction that Dinobot and his charges went, towards a green area out in front of the _Axalon_. The pair would like it to look at the plants, the trio would find it easier to land on than rock if they were sparring. Cheetor was trickier to find but he had gone off in the other direction, racing himself across the plain.

* * *

Darkness and weightlessness became dimness and the yielding contours of packing foam. It was an unnerving awakening from horror to alien and Airazor whimpered quietly before consciousness and Tigatron's scent reassured her. _Everything's soft now. Soft isn't anything to be afraid of._ Generally used to keep delicate equipment from scraping and banging around in a cargo crate, a few sheets of packing foam laid on a berth made a serviceable mattress. That had been Scorponok's idea and he'd been surprised no one else had thought of it. It was only realising that the Predacon second-in-command had been sleeping better than everyone else that caused questions and revealed his solution.

Airazor reached up and patted the hand stroking her hair. "You didn't have to wait around." She had her head pillowed on one of Tigatron's thighs, bare as usual. The tracker only wore clothing when she had to. While Airazor found both fabric and flesh rather odd-feeling she had a bit of a preference for skin, at least when it came to Tigatron. There was something more real about it.

"I wanted to." Tigatron set aside the datapad she held in her other hand. "You were mumbling in your sleep. I couldn't make out the words but you sounded upset."

Airazor sat up, rubbing at her forehead. "I'm fine. It was just a nightmare." Then, "Sentinel, restore normal illumination."

The lights obligingly came on. "What happened?" asked Tigatron.

"Well, nothing was menacing _me_," said Airazor, leaning against Tigatron, who draped an arm around her shoulders. "It was night and I was flying when I suddenly heard a voice calling for help over my radio. He was terrified but trying very hard to speak clearly." _They are dead. They are all dead. Please, if anyone can hear, please help me!_ "I told him I was coming to help, tried to keep him talking, because I knew that if he stopped talking that meant that he was dead and I'd been too slow to save him. So I flew as fast as I could, certain that any second I was going to hear him die ... and then I woke up." Airazor shook her head. "I didn't notice during the dream, but thinking of it now, the caller had Silverbolt's voice."

"Silverbolt? Why?"

"I don't know. I've talked to him a few times. He seems nice enough, if a bit uptight," said Airazor. "He's never asked me for help, panicked or otherwise, though he's offered it a few times. He can't bear to watch other people carry things, I think." She shrugged. "He has a very distinctive voice."

Tigatron nodded. "Perhaps that's all."

They went down to the xenobotany lab that had given up its original purpose to become the new refuelling centre. There was more variety now as different plants and animals were added to the list of things deemed chemically safe to eat.

Tigatron wrinkled her nose. "This place smells like ..."

"Rattrap?"

"I wasn't going to say that."

There was supposed to be one of the _Axalon's_ little round cleaner drones permanently assigned to the room now but there was organic debris littering the floor. Airazor knelt down to check the access tunnel. It was clear of both obstructions and drones.

Airazor, pragmatically omnivorous, ate whatever she had a craving for whenever it struck, trusting her body to understand its own chemistry better than she did. It seemed to be working so far. Right now she decided was that she wanted one of the fist-sized, pale yellow fruits. There weren't many in the bin - they were popular because they tasted rather like turpentine. Texture didn't bother her - she'd eaten things as a robot, after all - but swallowing felt strange with a soft throat. Because of that she took little bites, still poking around to see where the cleaner drone might have gone.

Tigatron didn't much like eating plants and only did because she recognised her body as omnivorous. Apparently at this moment she decided she could skip it - the tracker had gone over to the decontamination chamber and picked at the remains of the small bushbuck that Dinobot had brought in the day before. He'd been told not to hunt alone but in his usual way had ignored the order and simply vanished for several hours. There were only a few scraps of that left as well - fresh flesh had a bitter, iron-tinged flavour that the Cybertronians liked for its familiarity. It had taken them a few tries to program the decontamination field to deal with things like bacteria and leave the flesh alone.

When she finished, Tigatron licked her fingers clean. "Have we any set tasks for the day?"

"No. We'll probably be foraging since the supplies are looking low." Airazor found the drone under the table, flipped onto its back, stiff cilia waving sadly. She righted it and the drone immediately scooted away to clean the deck plates.

"I would also like to come up with more thorough protocols for cleaning this room," said Tigatron, stepping aside when the cleaner drone nudged her foot to get at a patch of floor. She always wore her boots, even if she wasn't wearing anything else, for that reason among others - the wire-brush underside of the drones would cut up her feet if they were bare. "Organic matter rots. This cannot be hygienic."

Airazor led the way up to the command centre. Optimus was the only one there, on his monitor duty shift, sitting with his elbows on a console and looking up at a screen with a view of the outside.

The Predacons were maybe a hundred metres from the base, in a rocky area, using the larger stones as seats. Airazor knew the area well - it was one of the Predacons' favourite spots to shoot at the _Axalon_ from. Without turning, Optimus said, "I think Megatron called a staff meeting. There's been some arguing but no fighting."

"I suppose we can't pick up what they're saying," said Airazor.

"I tried already," said Optimus, swivelling his chair to face them. "They're too far away. I'd bet that's the point. Oh, Tigatron, which room did you claim as your quarters? I know where everyone is now but you."

"Well, it hardly matters since I'm never there except to sleep ..." Tigatron hedged.

Airazor grinned. "She's with me."

Their leader nodded. "Fine. Now, I was thinking ..."

"Er. This is all right?" asked Tigatron. "This isn't considered fraternising?"

"We're not exactly a strict operation," said Optimus. "Whatever doesn't get in the way of your jobs is none of my business and if you're happy together, I'm glad. And speaking of your jobs, I wanted to run an idea by you."

"Yes?"

"I was thinking it might be a good idea to do a more detailed study of the larger primates," said Optimus. "Since ... unless the aliens suddenly change their minds or we miraculously come up with a way to change back, we're going to be like this for some time. Tigatron?"

The tracker nodded. "Long-term planning would be prudent, yes. We'd need to double-check their body chemistry to make sure they're similar enough to us for such research to be useful, of course."

"Good. With Quickstrike and Silverbolt here now we won't be outnumbered by the Predacons if you two do some longer missions."

"Nothing too long at first," said Airazor. "We don't know our limits yet."

"And I'd prefer you didn't go until we've got commlinks again," said Optimus. "According to Scorponok they're are fairly close to complete, or at least the prototypes are."

"I think that gorilla colony Tigatron and Cheetor checked out on the first day is still the closest group of large primates in the area, though chimpanzees might be worth checking out as well," said Airazor. She glanced up at Tigatron, who hadn't said anything since she'd agreed with the idea. "You have any suggestions?" the scout nudged.

"I ..." Tigatron hesitated a moment and almost seemed as if she was going to hug Optimus for giving her the assignment but the moment passed and she smiled warmly instead. "Thank you." Then, embarrassed by the show of emotion, Tigatron turned to the central workstation and summoned up a holographic map. "I know of one group of chimpanzees within ... I would say three day's walk from here now, and a second gorilla colony four days ..."

Optimus chuckled and shook his head. "I'm glad you're so enthusiastic."

Tigatron got down to business, plotting routes and supplies. Airazor contributed ideas when she had them but mostly she just stood back and let Tigatron take control. This was Tigatron's dream job after all - studying organic creatures in an attempt to become more like one herself.

* * *

"She took my mice! Mice _exist_ to be eaten! And tortured for science. And I like to do both ..."

"Silverbolt keeps giving me dirty looks. I've never even _talked_ to him!"

"Have you seen how Cheetor follows you around to spy on you and tries to pretend he's not? I think he _wants_ to be punched."

"Quickstrike _pinched_ me!"

"If Waspinator wanted to be treated like charity project by Maximals, Waspinator would have stayed on Cybertron!"

Megatron sat back and let his minions complain. It relieved some of the pressure. _It will only get worse,_ he knew. _Right now, Predacon and Maximal alike are feeling weak and confused. When we cannot avoid each other we try to ignore each other. This will not last._ They couldn't fight now even if they didn't need the Maximals - of the seven Predacons, only three were at full strength, such as it was. Megatron, Scorponok, Terrorsaur, and Waspinator still carried damages from the superheated air inside the Predacon base. The burns on their faces and Scorponok's hands still looked strange and whitish and waxy but they seemed to be healing. Their voices still rasped from the burns in their throats but at least it no longer hurt simply to breathe. Megatron found himself tiring faster than he thought he should. If the others had the same problem, they never told him.

He'd picked the spot outside because it was in the shade of a tall rock formation, had plenty of places to sit, and was far enough away from the _Axalon_ that the Maximals wouldn't bother with them but not so far that the Maximals would come looking.

"It's kind of fun watching Optimus," said Terrorsaur. The air warrior had immediately claimed the tallest rock that was still scaleable. He didn't sit like most of them, instead hunched over in a vaguely birdlike crouch with his arms draped over his knees. Unfortunately, this spot was directly above Megatron, who was using the tall rock as a backrest. It made Megatron uncomfortable to have him there but he wasn't going to admit that. "He can't stand us but he tries so hard to be nice. You can _see_ him put the effort in. The others don't bother."

"Rhinox seems okay," said Scorponok, sitting on a low rock with his long braid lying carefully beside him. He'd quickly learned to avoid sitting on it and pulling it. Suggestions that he might cut the thigh-length rope to something more manageable were invariably met with, _'Cut off my _tail_? Are you _crazy_?'_ Scorponok flinched slightly when the others looked at him but quickly switched into belligerent defiance. "What? So I ask him where stuff is sometimes. A tech's going to know better than a warrior."

"No one was accusing scorpion-bot of fraternising," soothed Waspinator, the only Predacon sitting on the ground. With her back to the rocks she was completely out of sight of the _Axalon_. If the Maximals suddenly decided to open fire, Waspinator was going to make sure she couldn't be hit.

Blackarachnia, seated above and to Waspinator's left, legs crossed and dangling down not quite close enough to use Waspinator's shoulder as a footrest, chuckled. "Those two that Inferno found missed the 'Predacons are bad' communiqué." She leaned back on her hands, rolled her shoulders, and the action sent the movement down her whole torso. "It can be annoying how they tag along and Quickstrike can get grabby but I never have to lift anything if they're around. Maximals can be _so_ helpful."

"Heh, something to do on a slow day," said Tarantulas, stretched out on her side on a flat rock, arms extended and head pillowed on her bicep. She quite enjoyed her new body, in her own strange way. Shaped more or less like the body she had designed for Blackarachnia, she seemed determined to act the way her creation did. Tarantulas hadn't quite got the hip-swing down yet or taken to trailing her nails down people's chests but Megatron thought it was just a matter of time. _Why_ she did it was another question. Possibly Tarantulas was just trying to show Blackarachnia up, an _I designed you to be this and I'm better at it than you are._ "Try to tempt the little innocents over to the dark side. Not that they seem to be good for much, but it would give the Maximals something to worry about, teheheheh."

Inferno, standing close enough to Megatron to look official but not as close as she used to, said nothing. She'd said hardly anything in the last few days, ever since she ran out of Megatron's quarters shouting that he was no longer the Queen. She still followed after Megatron out of habit. Inferno worked because she couldn't do anything else but she worked like an automaton.

Megatron let his minions vent for a while, then called for their attention. "Now then," he said. "Have we all realised what planet we're on?"

There were murmurs of assent from Scorponok, Tarantulas, Terrorsaur, and Waspinator. Blackarachnia and Inferno admitted denial. Megatron nodded. "You two weren't part of the original operation. But first - has anyone told the Maximals?"

This got a more definite "No!" from the Predacons. Megatron smiled. "Good. Blackarachnia, Inferno, this planet is Earth."

Blackarachnia's eyebrows lifted. "The last major alien battleground in the Great War. But ... wasn't that planet at least partially industrialised?"

"It was, in our own time. Our transwarp ship seems to have sent us backward in time some distance. I thought possibly forward - civilisations _do_ crumble - but backward seems more likely given the marks that have appeared on the moon. I'm not sure how far. This would seem to imply that in our current situation," - here Megatron looked at his hand with an expression of distaste - "we are human. Personally, all I know of the species is that it is small, soft, and produced Dinobot's favourite writer."

"Dinobot must know where we are," said Tarantulas.

"I wonder about that, actually," said Megatron. "I'm certain the Maximals don't know. At the moment this does us little good. Still, it is knowledge, knowledge is power, and we don't share power with Maximals, no."

"Predacons share everything else with them," Waspinator grumbled.

"Unless we can overhaul the environmental systems in our base without dying of exposure, we cannot return there. The pumps can only clear out so much of the lava," said Megatron. "Remaining at the _Axalon_ and upholding the truce is still the most practical option."

"You want us to act _nice_ to the _Maximals_?" asked Scorponok.

"Oh, absolutely not," said Megatron. "I resent this truce as much as the rest of you do. Be honest in your emotions. They will only be suspicious if we start acting friendly." He smiled and leaned forward. "Do not be honest in your _intentions_. Our plans will continue, yes." No one asked why they didn't just kill the Maximals. Even if the Predacons knew how to live in organic bodies, it was still easier to let the Maximals deal with the practical business of survival while they worked on their own projects, ostensibly for the good of all.

Terrorsaur made a derisive noise, reached down, and tugged a lock of Megatron's hair. Megatron caught the offending hand and tumbled the air warrior off the rock. Terrorsaur yelped and managed to twist enough to land on his back instead of on his face. Megatron poked him with the toe of his boot and got a wheezy squawk in reply - his minion was only stunned.

"Show a bit of optimism," Megatron chided a moment later as Terrorsaur recovered and slunk away to sit with Waspinator. "These bodies are merely a setback. They _do_ delay us - I don't want to start anything until we've returned to full strength. We are outnumbered now after all."

"At least they're not acting like they're doing us a big favour," said Tarantulas. "They hate that we're here and they admit it. I wouldn't be able to put up with smug Maximal sanctimony on top of all of this."

"What do you want us to do until then?" asked Scorponok.

"Keep to the truce. Assist the Maximals if they ask for it and if you are able - though you don't have to pretend you like it. And you might as well start viewing the _Axalon_ as 'home'," said Megatron. "Until we get our proper bodies back we're rather stuck here. This will also aid in convincing the Maximals that we're resigned to the truce. Once they've been lulled into a false sense of security it will be easier to continue with our true agenda."

Tarantulas laughed. "So it's just like back on Cybertron."

"Indeed. Remember that if you ever start feeling kindly-disposed towards our 'hosts'. Return to the tasks you had left off yesterday - I will summon you if I need you. Dismissed."

The other Predacons picked themselves up and headed off on their assorted assignments. Megatron singled one out. "Not you, Inferno." Megatron had once found Inferno's boundless enthusiasm and unthinking loyalty to be a bit annoying. He liked her current state less.

She didn't seem like she was going to snap herself out of it and Megatron didn't feel like waiting. "Inferno, we need to have a little talk about your attitude these last few days."

Inferno didn't come to attention, merely turned and waited. Megatron folded his arms across his chest. "I have tolerated your ant outlook but I have my limits. This is getting beyond ridiculous. It doesn't _matter_ that I'm male."

She wouldn't meet his gaze, instead hanging her head to address Megatron's boots. "It does. You have been weakened. That body ..."

"We have _all_ been weakened. _This_ body is exactly the same type as _your_ body. You don't seem worried about yourself."

"Forgive me," said Inferno stiffly, "but not _exactly_ the same ..."

Megatron stood up. He couldn't loom over Inferno any more but he was still the taller of the two. "Perhaps the important thing here is that I'm still bigger and stronger than you. Do we need to have a little rite of combat reminder of the hierarchy?"

"I know your rank. It doesn't matter." The warrior looked miserable. "You are not the Queen."

_You are not the Queen._ It was Inferno's mantra these days, sadly murmured when she thought Megatron couldn't hear, rarely said to his face. As he understood it, the queen of an ant colony was a living factory to create workers and soldiers and drones to serve her. But Inferno _knew_ how Cybertronian life was created, she understood about the factories and protoforms and programming and sparks. Yet Megatron had not been some kind of factory before. He'd never sparked a new life from himself. He'd never reprogrammed a stasis pod. _Well, not lately._

A queen was a shell factory. Workers maintained it and soldiers defended it. Drones were necessary to the creation of new life somehow. Technicians, or ... _No. More that drones give up their sparks to the queen so that she might split them into many sparks to give life to the shells she created. Ant queens are invariably female but ..._

It hadn't mattered before. In the Cybertronian language there was only one personal pronoun for a sentient mechanism. Inferno had used it for everyone, as they all did. Now they were using xeno pronouns to match their alien forms and he was the wrong sex. "Inferno, I was not female before."

"You were not male," Inferno reminded him. "And I know you had created life. The Dinobot clone."

She hadn't been there but any of the others could have mentioned it. "You are aware I used a machine for that, yes? And he had no spark. The clone was in no way my offspring."

"But he _could_ have been, if you chose," Inferno insisted. "And I know what you were before. Tarantulas told me once."

_Blasted spider._ Inferno knew Cybertronian concepts, they just all got strained through an ant filter. The potential to spark new life was in all of them, barring some weakness. It had made Megatron female _enough_. Add in that he was the largest one in the crew and the leader ... Predacon thoughts were strong enough that Inferno still followed orders. But the ant thoughts were insisting that there was something fundamentally wrong.

"You _know_ that I am still myself?" Megatron demanded.

"Yes," said Inferno, finally lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "You are Megatron."

"And you know that I am your leader."

"You are Megatron," she repeated. "You lead the Predacons. I am a Predacon and therefore you are my leader."

"You _will_ obey me."

"Yes." But she slumped then and looked at the ground. "You are Megatron, leader of the Predacons. But you are not the Queen."

Megatron sighed, for the moment defeated. "That will have to do. Dismissed."

He watched her walk away, back towards the _Axalon. I never liked the 'Queen' title, but it did cement Inferno's loyalty to me. At least Primal is male. Inferno won't be getting any ... ideas. Dinobot's already decided to play Maximal, I will _not _lose Inferno to them as well, no!_

Megatron followed, rather more slowly, partly to put some distance between himself and Inferno, partly because he didn't have the energy for speed and too much activity made his head ache. Movement on the roof made him flinch out of habit even though he knew the base defences were off - it turned out just to be Terrorsaur sitting on top of the ship. The air warrior made a rude gesture at him. Megatron ignored it.

He tried to stop the lift on the lower level so he could go back to his quarters without dealing with any Maximals but Megatron found himself up in the command centre anyway - apparently someone wanted to talk to him and overrode the lift controls. A quick glance around the room showed Tigatron and Airazor standing by the central workstation, the former glaring at Inferno, and Optimus standing by the lift override. Megatron put his hands on his hips and turned to Optimus. "Well?"

"Inferno's complaining," Optimus explained. "She wants to borrow one of Tigatron's spare guns. Tigatron doesn't want to lend it."

Megatron looked over at Inferno, one eyebrow lifted. "What do you need a cold-based weapon for?"

"Hunting," said Inferno flatly. "I require ice after my fire."

"There," said Megatron. "Inferno is simply being responsible. If she accidentally sets the jungle on fire she can put it out."

Tigatron and Optimus exchanged looks, then Tigatron sighed and gestured Inferno to follow. Optimus turned back to Megatron. "While I have your attention, I want to go to your base and pick up some equipment."

Megatron frowned. "_I_ don't."

"Any preference on when you'd like to make the excursion?" No sarcasm, just query.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"If it will help us get our metal back?" asked Optimus. "Yes."

"That will not happen quickly. I doubt that a delay will matter," said Megatron, hitting the lift control.

When he reached his quarters, Megatron glanced around the room and sighed. He'd added a high-backed chair with padding that he could sleep on. There were a few sheets of packing foam on the floor near the door - Inferno refused to take the berth, even though Megatron didn't use it and said that she could. Inferno had very firm ideas about her place. So he used the berth as a shelf and left the computer there when he didn't have it perched on his lap to work. It was a rather pathetic device but it could access the _Axalon's_ main computer, or at least those bits that Optimus had deemed Allowed To Be Seen By Predacons. Megatron hadn't had the energy to try to hack it yet.

He settled back in his chair without picking up his computer and closed his eyes. _I just awakened recently! I should not be feeling tired again so soon! Perhaps I should raise the oxygen level in here. That seemed to help a little before._


	9. Ill Feelings: Part 2

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Ill Feelings - part two **

"I should be working. There's still so much we need to know."

"Ah-h-h, you're glad that I dragged you out here."

Rhinox settled back on the springy grass under a tree with a smile, hands behind his head. "Fine. You're right."

"See? Trust the rat."

Lying around in the shade was a bit too slow for Rattrap's sense of fun, but he knew Rhinox liked it and he needed the break badly. The engineer hadn't so much as gone outside the _Axalon_ since he picked up the scrap from the wasteland pod site and the intact blank protoform two days ago. He hadn't had a single chance to come out and just enjoy the outdoors.

Rhinox closed his eyes, soaking up the morning with his other senses. Rattrap rooted through his toolbox, knowing Rhinox wouldn't mind, and took out his datapad. He settled against the engineer, using him as a backrest, and skimmed through the files. When he found there was nothing on it he had any interest in reading, he put it back and got up again.

Rhinox opened his eyes. "You're bouncing around worse than Cheetor."

"Hey, you unwind in your way and I'll unwind in mine," Rattrap said lightly. He'd been stuck inside almost as much as Rhinox had, doing repairs, making sure the alien energy wave hadn't messed up the _Axalon's_ systems, and making up plumbing as he went along.

Dinobot and the neophytes were a distance away, close enough to see and hear but not to actually make out words. Dinobot glanced over when Rattrap waved, then went back to whatever it was he was doing. Not much from what Rattrap could see, just talking. The neophytes didn't seem very interested.

"I was arguin' with Tigatron yesterday," said Rattrap idly, still watching the warrior. "I said somethin' homesick and she said she'd always seen this planet as home and I took it bad and snapped at her and she snapped back. Then chopperface butted in with some story about how there's this legend that the first Transformers were made like they just grew outta Cybertron, and that afterwards it was like all Transformers always carried a bit of Cybertron with them no matter where they were. And I said what's that do for us _now_ and he said we'd lost that connection, then he walked off. I don't get him."

"Maybe he was saying he feels homesick, too," said Rhinox.

"Maybe he's just nuts."

"What about you and Tigatron?"

"Oh," said Rattrap, turning back. "Yeah, Tigatron said she'd take me on a hike sometime so's I can properly appreciate beauty of nature and I said if she tried it I was gonna take her to this club I know so's she can properly appreciate the beauty of strip-dancers. So we're cool."

"Heh."

Rattrap wandered off a short way, unconsciously patrolling the small grove. _Even if we got back to Cybertron what could I do there? I'd never survive a bar fight in this body. Pit, I wouldn't even survive a drink!_

_Maybe we'd be able to get metal bodies again, more resources back home ... Hnh, if we lived that long. No, we can't go back, not like this._

Something caught Rattrap's eye and he laughed suddenly. Rhinox sat up and called to him: "What is it?"

"Wild bean vines." Rattrap pulled one of the long seed pods off and walked back to Rhinox. "I know we've been jokin' about these things since day one but I gotta admit to curiosity here. One of those things I _know_ I shouldn't do but I just gotta see what happens."

"You can't just ingest random things and expect them to turn into fuel now," said Rhinox, pulling a scanner out of his toolbox.

"But everything tastes interesting now," Rattrap protested, kneeling on the grass. Not always _good_ but interesting. Of the senses that they retained as organics, taste was the one that had changed the most. Some of them found this unpleasant but Rattrap thought it was a great deal of fun. Lunch was an adventure.

He held up the seed pod so Rhinox could scan it. After a moment, the engineer shook his head. "They're poisonous."

Rattrap peered at the seed pod. "Already guessed _that_."

"They only had an effect on me because of the energon discharge virus," said Rhinox. "Under ordinary circumstances these would have just been more convertible matter. They're poisonous to these bodies. Too many alkaloids."

"How poisonous?"

"One of those seed pods could probably kill everyone on the _Axalon_."

Rattrap dropped the plant. "Well, we _knew_ the things were powerful -"

He was cut off by a loud, wet, _organic_ sound that he'd never heard before and immediately hoped he'd never hear again. Both Maximals were immediately on their feet. "What the blazes was that?" Rhinox asked.

"I don't know if I even _wanna_ know," said Rattrap. He turned to see if Dinobot and the others had heard and found that Quickstrike had fallen to his knees. Dinobot saw Rattrap watching and waved them over. "Slag, something's wrong with 'Strike. Come on!"

By the time Rattrap and Rhinox covered the distance, the others had moved a few metres from where they had been - Silverbolt half-dragging Quickstrike. It didn't make any sense until they got there.

"What happened?" Rattrap demanded.

Dinobot made a small gesture near his throat. "Fuel rejection. System purge."

Quickstrike had blown his tank. Rattrap had never put any thought into the process that turned food into energy. It went in one end and whatever was left over came out the other. He hadn't wondered what the intermediate stage looked like but found out now because apparently it could also come back up the throat. It looked sludgy and the sour smell made his throat twitch. _And here I'd thought nothin' could stink worse than lava. Life is just full of discoveries, ain't it?_

They'd moved away from the mess. Quickstrike was sitting on the ground, legs drawn up to rest his elbows on his knees and his hands on the back of his head. Silverbolt was hovering near him, worried but uncertain what to do. Rattrap went over, reached down, and patted Quickstrike on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"I sure hope not," mumbled the blond, then spat. "Hate to think feelin' like this was normal."

Rattrap rounded on Dinobot. "You went too hard on 'em, didn't you? You _know_ we don't know what kinda damage these bodies can take and you went and pushed - mmph!"

Dinobot's hand clamped around the lower half of Rattrap's face. "I was teaching them theory. I never laid a hand on them. Don't even _think_ of biting me." The way Dinobot was holding him, biting would have been difficult. Rattrap drove his fist into Dinobot's midsection instead. The warrior grunted, then released Rattrap after a few deliberate seconds to prove that he was letting go out of choice. "They were listless at the start of the shift," Dinobot continued. "Perhaps it was something _you_ did."

"I ... It was first thing in the morning! I thought they'd slept badly and Quickstrike was just bein' surly because he thought the film was boring!"

"So you _did_ think that something was wrong and did nothing, then tried to blame _me_ when it got worse!"

"Shut up, okay?"

Behind them, Rhinox had taken over, scanner in hand and asking questions. "When did you first realise you felt wrong?"

"Enh, 'fore I went to sleep last night," said Quickstrike.

"Why didn't you _say_ anything?" Rattrap demanded, stomping over and glaring down at the blond.

Quickstrike shrugged. "Figured I could tough it out."

Before Rattrap could shout at him for being irresponsible, Rhinox stepped in. "We're still just learning these bodies. If something goes wrong with them, we need to know immediately."

Silverbolt looked sheepish. "Ah. I said nothing for I do not wish to be a bother, but ..."

"You, too?" Rattrap yelled. "For bootin' up cold! You gotta _tell_ us things!"

Rattrap left Rhinox to it and went back to Dinobot. The warrior was standing a few metres away, uncertain what to do and staying out of Rhinox's way. "You seem fond of the neophytes," he said when Rattrap rejoined him.

_Optimus handed their trainin' over to me. And to you but you don't care so you don't count. And I'm the one who found 'em out in that wasteland. So I feel responsible for 'em._ "So what?" Rattrap finished out loud.

"If they wish to act carelessly, it is not your fault."

"Look, it's _nothing_," Quickstrike, still seated on the ground, was insisting to Rhinox. "I'd been feelin' kinda twisted up inside but it's untwisted itself. And I've been feelin' tired. So what? The worst of it's over. Can't think of anythin' bein' worse than that tank purge."

Rhinox glanced over at Silverbolt. "And you?"

"A general malaise," said Silverbolt defensively. "Little energy. Minor cramps along here," he said, touching a hand to his midsection. "Nothing I was particularly concerned about. I mention it only because you insisted."

The engineer tucked his scanner back into its compartment. "I'm taking you both back to the _Axalon_ to run some more tests."

"I don't see why I gotta -"

"You walk or you go over my shoulder," said Rhinox evenly. "Your choice."

"Tarnation!" Quickstrike cursed, pulling himself to his feet. "I'll walk, you oversized varmint!"

Quickstrike complained most of the way back to the _Axalon_ that everyone was overreacting and shouldn't _he_ know best since it was _his_ body? Dinobot's snarl didn't shut him up but a few words from Silverbolt did. _He always caves in to what 'Bolt wants,_ Rattrap realised. It was grudging and Quickstrike would often argue but when Silverbolt held firm, he got his way. _I know they'd been in a fight before we found 'em. I'm thinkin' Silverbolt won._

The control centre wasn't any darker than the outdoors had been. Rattrap squinted up through the roof hatch, briefly wondered why it was open, and forgot about it. Sometimes people talked about putting up a ladder but no one had bothered yet. The environmental compensators could deal with the heat, the breeze was nice enough, and Rattrap had other things on his mind.

Optimus, Tigatron, and Airazor were around the central workstation, which was projecting a holographic terrain map. Optimus looked up. "You're all back early."

"The neophytes are feelin' glitchy so we brought 'em back here to make sure it's nothin' too bad," said Rattrap.

Tigatron went over, asking questions and looking carefully at the neophytes. Airazor, knowing she was out of her element, went back to studying her map, though she kept shooting little worried glances at the group.

"All right," said Optimus after a few minutes. "We'll take them down to the repair bay. Maybe we'll be able to determine what's wrong with them."

"Repair bay?" asked Tigatron. "The equipment in the xenobiology lab would be more suited."

"Blast. You're right. Rhinox, Tigatron, bring them." Optimus started out.

Rattrap started to follow. "Hey, I'm comin', too."

"You're more use to me up here," said Optimus.

Which was the polite way of saying, _You've got no training in the biological sciences whatsoever and would be underfoot._ Rattrap plunked down in the nearest chair. "I'll take over your shift so's you can go look after the neophytes, then." _And keep _me _from hoverin'. Got an image to maintain after all._ Still, he could just happen to keep watch with the security camera in the xenobiology lab.

Dinobot left with the others, talking to Optimus, which Rattrap found somewhat unfair. _Enh, probably just telling Optimus that he didn't do it._

Airazor glanced back at the corridor. "I hope they can fix whatever's wrong."

"Yeah."

Rattrap's mind was otherwise occupied so he never noticed Terrorsaur listening in from the roof, or slip away to sneak back in through the cargo entrance.

* * *

Dinobot aimlessly prowled the _Axalon's_ corridors. Movement helped him think. He'd talked to Optimus, who had rather distractedly told him Megatron's decision not to return to the Predacon base.

Megatron still felt too unwell to travel. Good. That meant Dinobot probably had a few days to work with. _But how do I reach the Predacon base?_ Taking the hoversled was unlikely. He would never be able to come up with a good excuse why he needed it alone for an afternoon. He couldn't just take it - Rattrap had done something to the device, removed some part so that Megatron couldn't slip away without the Maximals knowing. Walking would take weeks, even ignoring the mountains and the lava fields. It was completely unfeasible. _Even if I did manage to take the hoversled ... if Megatron _did _turn off the environmental controls it would be suicide to go inside. And even after all that everyone would know where I had been because of the smell!_

_But I need the Golden Disc._

He would figure out what to do with it once it was in his hands. The important thing was to _have_ it.

The last thing Dinobot wanted to do was confront Megatron but he couldn't see any alternative. Almost unconsciously, Dinobot had gone down to the quarters section of the ship. While he sternly told himself that he was not going to go talk to Megatron, the rest of his body didn't seem to be getting the message.

He paused. Footsteps, only one set, and the muttering announced that Waspinator was annoyed about something.

When Waspinator rounded the corner, Dinobot grabbed her and pulled her into an unoccupied set of quarters. Dinobot twisted the scout's arms behind her back, pushed her into the wall, and pinned her there with his weight. It was safer to deal with one of the warriors than to let Megatron drip poison in his ear. "You _know_ where we are."

She tried to squirm out of his grip. "Waspinator is _here_. Lizard-bot is behind her. Release Waspinator!"

"Don't play stupid."

"Waspinator not playing!"

There was the possibility that Waspinator really did know nothing. That was the problem with trying to predict Megatron's plans - he didn't always tell his minions what they were. Dinobot decided to stick with Waspinator for now. "I've seen you watching the moon. You know where we are."

Waspinator brought her heel down sharply on Dinobot's foot and twisted. Dinobot simply accepted the pain and crushed the Predacon scout into the wall until she gasped for breath and stopped.

He supposed that it really didn't matter how much Waspinator knew about the Golden Disc. Dinobot twisted Waspinator's arm a bit, just enough to elicit a squeak. "Did Megatron shut off the base's environmental controls?"

"Lizard-bot can go eat slag!"

The dodge answer tipped things in favour of 'no'. After all, Megatron didn't know when he left that he wouldn't be returning to his base. Still, it wasn't something he could chance. "Yes or no, insect."

"Nng! Go swim in a smelter!"

The walls weren't thin but Waspinator was shouting. There was a voice in the hall: _"Waspinator!"_

"_Terror-bot!_" Waspinator shrieked and the strain was finally too much for her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing.

Dinobot hadn't had a chance to lock the door. He twisted, bringing the scout around with him, still holding her arms. Terrorsaur stepped in, a knife already in his hand. They weren't supposed to carry weapons in the _Axalon_ but a knife could be claimed to be a tool.

"Picking on a poor injured Predacon," Terrorsaur rasped, circling, but Dinobot kept Waspinator between them. "Not very _honourable_." And, "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I, Waspinator?"

"Like is Waspinator's fault flyer-bots sent to different _places_." At 'places', Waspinator drove her foot back into Dinobot's shin while trying to twist out of his grasp. No longer braced by the wall, underestimating Waspinator's strength and his own weakness, they went down in a tangle.

In those few seconds, Dinobot considered his position and found it unfavourable. When Terrorsaur stepped forward and grabbed Waspinator's hand, Dinobot let him yank her away. He stood up once she got clear.

Waspinator's cheek was leaking a clear fluid - the blister had torn sometime during the struggle. She didn't tend to it and Terrorsaur barely glanced at her. Both Predacons had enough sense to realise what the immediate threat was and they weren't about to let Dinobot catch them by surprise. "What was he roughing you up for?" Terrorsaur asked Waspinator without looking away from Dinobot.

"Lizard-bot wants to get back into Predacon base," said Waspinator.

Terrorsaur lifted an eyebrow. "What're you after, Dinobot?"

Dinobot considered telling them. Terrorsaur was notoriously gullible when it came to offers of power. On the other hand he might not be gullible _twice_. Waspinator wasn't very smart but she was more discerning than her partner. But even if they agreed, they were no use to him. Dinobot answered him with silence.

"Fine." With that, Terrorsaur and Waspinator left.

They would tell Megatron. _Let them,_ Dinobot thought. Megatron would have already considered the possibility that Dinobot knew where they were and what the Golden Disc meant.

_They might tell Optimus._

_That_ was an unpleasant thought. Not Optimus knowing, no, but hearing it under those circumstances. Then it would be, _'Why did I hear this from a couple of Predacons? Why did you keep this secret? We need all the information we can get!'_ and, _'What were _you _planning to do with the Disc that you couldn't tell us about?'_ And he wouldn't be able to explain that it wasn't for any harmful purpose, that his motivations were entirely personal, because they wouldn't understand and because the admission of his fears would leave him too vulnerable.

_I wanted to be certain before telling you, Optimus. I know we need information but false information is more harmful than none at all._ Except that he _was_ certain and when it came right down to it, Dinobot hated to lie. Omission was allowable but outright lying was dishonourable.

But then they might not go to Optimus at all. Knowing they were on Earth was an advantage and they wouldn't want to give that up. They might not even think that far ahead, the idea of going to the Maximal leader with a problem too alien to them. Terrorsaur and Waspinator hated the Maximals - they wouldn't ask one for help.

_So, my choices - head off the flyers and go to Optimus myself or trust that they won't talk to him._

* * *

Returning to the _Axalon_ turned out to be for the best. That was where the lavatory was, after all. While not an absolute necessity, it did make life more convenient and hygienic.

"Hey! I was startin' to wonder if we'd hafta send out a search party for you."

Silverbolt glared at Quickstrike, embarrassed at his arrival being announced. He slunk into the xenobiology lab and slipped back into the chair that he'd slid as far away from everyone as possible - if it wasn't on a track, he'd be in the corner. For reasons Optimus couldn't understand, it made Silverbolt uncomfortable when he knew that other people knew he'd been using the lavatory. Quickstrike had the same hang-up to a lesser degree and covered it by making jokes, but it really upset Silverbolt.

Whatever was wrong with the two newest Maximals, it was getting worse and it seemed determined to clean out their digestive systems. Only Quickstrike had thrown up - Silverbolt hadn't eaten that morning, already feeling a bit off. But matter reaching the main tank was only the first part of the digestive process. Once food was dissolved into sludge and passed to the unnervingly tangled-looking tube organs for nutrient extraction the only way it could go was down.

Right now it was being very insistent about going down.

They'd both developed a thirst as well, which bolstered the 'system purge' theory. "If their systems are trying to flush themselves out it might mean they ingested something incompatible with their chemistry," said Rhinox, who hadn't noticed that Silverbolt had returned or even that he'd left in the first place. He was sitting at the computer with Tigatron reading over his shoulder.

"Doubtful. I have eaten nothing that no one else has," said Silverbolt, blushing furiously.

Quickstrike, sitting on one table, looked away from counting Tigatron's stripes long enough to shake his head. "If _that's_ a problem, how come I'm sick and Rattrap ain't?"

"No, I suppose that isn't fair," said Optimus, leaning back on the opposite table, succeeding at keeping a neutral expression. He had already broken up one game of I Dare You To Eat This between Rattrap and Tarantulas. Anyone else and he might have felt a twinge of pleasure that the factions were getting along. Rattrap and Tarantulas had simply found a new way to fight. "Are the rest of us in danger of contracting whatever they have?"

"Maybe," said Rhinox. "Depends on what's causing it. Nobody else has shown these symptoms."

"Perhaps ..." started Tigatron but trailed off uncomfortably.

"We can take it, sugar," Quickstrike assured her.

"Your pods were badly damaged," said the tracker. "You might have been ... constructed wrong."

"It's not that," said Rhinox, swivelling his chair to face the room. "If nothing else, these bodies are easy to compare structurally. There's nothing wrong with how Quickstrike and Silverbolt were built."

"That's a relief, anyway," said Optimus. "Then whatever's happening to them has some kind of outside cause. But we don't know how to begin curing it without knowing what set it off. Maybe all we can do is wait for their systems to cleanse themselves of the contamination."

Quickstrike laughed and reached for his canteen. "Believe me, it's tryin'. 'Least I don't have to taste it any more."

"If it's not something big, perhaps we should be looking for something small. A parasite or bacteria," said Tigatron. "I've yet to see an animal with these symptoms but sick animals tend to hide."

"An animal ..." murmured Silverbolt.

Quickstrike slapped his hand down on the table. "Right! We never ate anything different from you but we did drink different. There was that oasis out in the wasteland, before y'all found us. And that lion that attacked us ... well, I ain't real sure what a lion's supposed to be like but that one looked pretty rough."

"They had bloodstains on their clothing when they arrived," said Optimus. "And water when they tried to wash it off. Would you be able to sample from that, Rhinox?"

"We already disposed of our original garments," said Silverbolt.

"It probably wouldn't have been enough to work from, anyway." Rhinox folded his arms and tapped his fingers on his forearm. "We could get samples if we went back to the oasis, but how are we supposed to find the place?"

Optimus shrugged. "Borrow a Predacon. It's their territory. I'll talk to Megatron."

* * *

Megatron listened to the flyers' reports, then shooed them away so he could think.

Dinobot knew about the Disc and knew what planet he was on. Well, that was to be expected. He could deal with Dinobot.

And the two new Maximals were malfunctioning. Optimus, Rhinox, and Tigatron would likely be devoting all their energies to finding out what was wrong, why it went wrong, and trying to fix it. They would probably borrow Tarantulas to help them. If they didn't, Megatron would have to suggest her himself. The rest of the Maximals would be worried about their comrades.

In short, everyone that Megatron considered a possible threat to his plans was distracted.

He'd hoped to put it off for a few days so he could finish healing - he had no desire to subject his burns to the heat of the Predacon base again - but he hated to turn down such an opportunity.

Megatron checked the repair bay first, chuckled to himself when he found it empty, and then went to the xenobiology lab. He caught Optimus just as he was exiting.

"Ah, Optimus, just the being I wanted to see," Megatron announced, falling into step beside his Maximal counterpart. "I've changed my mind. I think I will return to my base, if only to pick up the alien disc."

Optimus stopped and raised an eyebrow. "What brought this about?" Optimus sounded suspicious but that was only natural. Megatron would have thought less of the Maximal if he hadn't been wary.

"Boredom, mostly," he lied. "Continuing my translations of the disc will give me something to do." _Something to do that doesn't involve physical activity,_ Megatron added mentally. _If I tired merely holding council with my troops, this little field trip is going to exhaust me._

"Dinobot told me you dabble in the biological sciences," said Optimus. "Maybe you should stay here and help us."

"Oh?"

"The neophytes are malfunctioning."

"I build clones. I do not heal sick primates," Megatron informed him. "But I know what equipment might be helpful, yes."

Optimus sighed. "No matter what I say, you're going to find a way around it, aren't you? I'm surprised you're asking my permission."

Megatron smiled thinly. "Don't pretend that you don't know the rat sabotaged the loader sled." Of course Megatron already had duplicates of the parts Rattrap had removed, but let the Maximals think him trapped.

"Right." The Maximal sounded guilty. _How nice that Optimus wishes he could trust us. How nice that it upsets him that his crew knows he can't._ "Who are you expecting to take along?"

"Alas, I will need assistance with any heavy lifting now. In my preference I would take Scorponok, Terrorsaur, and Waspinator." _I would have preferred Inferno. Scorponok isn't healing as well as the others and the flyers aren't the most useful of beings._

"Any one of them is fine. I can lend you Dinobot and Rattrap."

He'd known Optimus would veto an all-Predacon team but it was worth a try. Megatron didn't have to fake a look of displeasure. "The traitor and the vermin together. You are either trying to assassinate me or goad me into a truce violation."

"They both know your base pretty well already and Dinobot's good for heavy lifting," said Optimus.

"I will tolerate one or the other. Not both at once."

"Hm." Optimus looked back over his shoulder down the hall they'd just left. "If you'll make a side-trip into the wasteland I can send Rhinox."

"Acceptable."

"All right. Dinobot and Rhinox. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," said Megatron with flat sarcasm, gloating inwardly. _You've handed me Dinobot with only the slightest nudge on my part. The day improves._ "Oh yes, and you might want to talk to Tarantulas if you haven't already. She's the one that knows biological sciences, though you might wish to keep an eye on her while she's working."


	10. Ill Feelings: Part 3

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Ill Feelings - part three **

The fabricator could create parts but not a complete machine. Blackarachnia and Scorponok had to piece together their commlinks by hand. They only made three to start with, an initial design to be tested and built on. The two were holed up in the materials lab, the largest and most obviously used of the three laboratories on the _Axalon_. The xenobiology and xenobotany labs were really quite clean in comparison. The materials lab was an explosion of organised clutter, tools and parts covering every surface and those surfaces were covered in scratches and stains. The Maximals might have found the study of plants and animals interesting but they got far more use out of metal and robotics.

When Scorponok needed fingers back at the Predacon base he would either use the manipulator arms in his lab or borrow Waspinator. He found his new hands with their five fingers were more suited to his current task than his claws would have been. There were burns on the backs of his hands similar to the ones on his face but healing more slowly because Scorponok couldn't help picking at them. At least the injuries didn't get in the way of his work. Blackarachnia, sitting across the table from Scorponok, found her fingers clumsy and confusing. Better at grasping tools but not as good at delicate detail work as her pedipalp-hands had been.

Scorponok shook his head. "How can you find fingers confusing? You used to have eight legs."

"Not on the ends of my arms! They're in the wrong place! How come you're fine with yours?"

He shrugged. "It's not too bad if you just do the work without thinking about the shape of your hands." He tapped the casing of the commlink he was working on. "You think these'll work?"

"I think they'll work," said Blackarachnia. "I don't think they'll work _well_. We had enough problems trying to cut through the energon radiation before." As robots, their commlinks had tapped into their internal power structure, which was sometimes enough to cut through the interference. Now they had to run the devices on batteries. That had been Scorponok's part of it. "Jamming towers."

Scorponok didn't look up from his work. "What about them?"

"We might be able to reprogram them into signal boosters if the energy wave didn't destroy whichever ones the Maximals haven't pulled down," said Blackarachnia. "We'll have to use the _Axalon's_ transmitter to see which towers are still functional."

"At worst we can make more." The towers were mostly pre-fabricated, though they would need machines to lift the pieces now. Scorponok leaned his elbows on the table and tapped his pliers against his palm thoughtfully. "I wonder if we could use the CR chambers to make bigger and more complicated things. CRs already tie in with the fabricators to make new parts but those are often bigger than the fabricator allows for and it pieces bodies together automatically. If we could override the protocols so that instead of repairing, it creates ..."

"Don't let your imagination run away with you," said Blackarachnia. "They might let us play with their toys but I doubt the Maximals are going to let us mess with their ship."

"They might if it'll benefit them."

The door opened and Megatron stepped in. "How goes your work?"

Scorponok answered for both of them. "We're nearly done with the prototypes, we just need to finish putting them together."

Megatron nodded. "Good. Blackarachnia, finish this. Scorponok, you're with me."

* * *

Optimus never came back to the command centre to finish off his shift. He'd left the xenobiology lab and Rattrap lost track of his leader until he appeared in the stasis hold and stayed there, picking over protoform data. Airazor slipped off before he could ask her to take over - something about foraging because their food supplies were getting low. When Cheetor finally appeared for his shift, Rattrap immediately left to go look in on the neophytes.

Not that Rattrap hadn't kept tabs on what was going on. Every so often, he tapped into the laboratory computer to see what information had been entered. They'd already run scans on everyone to try to estimate what counted as 'normal' now. None of them had been put under nearly as detailed scrutiny as Quickstrike and Silverbolt currently were. In the absence of knowing what was actively harmful, Tigatron and Tarantulas were merely trying to determine what was _different_. This was more Tarantulas' kind of science - take samples of everything that can be sampled, then poke them to see if they dance.

Both biologists were caught up in their own work - Tarantulas on the main computer, standing to work, Tigatron sitting at the end of one of the two tables, picking over a datapad. Where Tarantulas pored over details, Tigatron was more about the big picture, cataloguing physical reactions and weighing them against behaviour she'd observed in the wild. She was also there to keep an eye on Tarantulas but nobody said that.

Tigatron looked up when Rattrap walked in so he smiled at her, made a face at Tarantulas' back, and turned to the neophytes. "How're you two holdin' up?"

"Got two pretty girls fussin' over me," said Quickstrike, lying back on the table Tigatron was sitting at, legs bent to keep them out of her way. He had draped an arm over his eyes but lifted it to look at Rattrap. His face was pale and he was sweating despite the coolness of the room but he still managed a smirk. "Can't complain. 'Cept maybe about how 'Ranty threatened me with a probe."

"I needed a stool sample. You baulked at the idea of bringing one," said Tarantulas without turning around. "Until I told you the alternative, heh heh heh."

"Yeah, and waved it at me." Quickstrike covered his eyes again. "You coulda just said 'please', sugar."

Rattrap grinned. He rather liked Quickstrike. _Reminds me of me, if I was young, fearless, and dumber than rocks. But now I _know _he's malfunctioning - Tigatron's right there and he's not lookin' at her!_

_Hnh. And Silverbolt's not trying to _not _look at her,_ thought Rattrap. For his part, he didn't care that Tigatron tended to wear nothing but her boots and hair clips indoors, but the neophytes did. If they weren't giving Tigatron any kind of special attention it meant they were too focused on their insides to notice anything outside.

"This is ... terribly embarrassing," said Silverbolt, fiddling with the cap of his canteen before taking a drink. He had the other chair and was sitting primly at the opposite table. He'd been reading a datapad but put it down when Rattrap came in. He seemed to have lucked out - whatever was wrong, it didn't appear to affect Silverbolt as badly as it did Quickstrike.

"Enh, so you're glitchin'. It's not like you're doin' it on purpose," said Rattrap. "Remind me to tell you two about the time Rhinox got infected with an energon discharge virus ... Or maybe _you_ could tell 'em about it, eight-eyes."

Tarantulas didn't bother looking up from the console. "I was unconscious at the time."

"And how is it _my_ fault that Preds are rock magnets?" asked Rattrap.

"As I recall, the rock didn't happen until _after_ you and Dinobot hunted me down and shot me."

Rattrap was suddenly aware of both neophytes staring at him in horror. Silverbolt found his voice first. "You _shot_ a _woman_?"

"She's a _Predacon_!" Rattrap protested. "She'd infected Rhinox with somethin' that was killin' him! And she wasn't a woman then anyway!"

"_Then_ the rock fell on me. Did you dislodge it on purpose or was that an accident caused by your blundering?" asked Tarantulas, continuing as if there had been no interruption, plainly enjoying herself. "Oh, and _then_ you dragged me for kilometres down that underground passage. And _then_ when I was regaining consciousness, you both punched me in the face. And after more dragging, you used me as a shield and got me shot by Megatron." She sighed dramatically, resting a hand lightly on her chest. "Is it any _wonder_ I don't remember?"

"Would anyone have a problem if _I_ hit Tarantulas?" Tigatron growled.

"Go for it, stripes."

"I ... have not yet considered the morality of that possibility ..."

"Can 'Ranty strip down first?"

"Hmph."

The argument might have continued if nothing interrupted. With a quick, "Excuse me," Silverbolt dashed from the room.

"Think we'd've run out by now," mumbled Quickstrike from under his arm.

Rattrap decided to leave before Silverbolt returned. Rattrap _knew_ he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if Silverbolt tried to apologise for the fact that his elimination system functioned. A bit over-enthusiastically at the moment but it wasn't like Silverbolt had a choice in the matter.

* * *

"Hey, boss monkey."

Optimus jumped slightly at the sudden voice. He'd been lost in the shimmer of the blank protoform, sleeping quietly in its pod on the wall. It had taken a loader drone to lift it up there. "Sorry I didn't come back up. I meant to just quickly check in here and got distracted. What brings you down here?"

Rattrap shrugged. "Enh. Neophytes on my mind." He crossed the stasis hold to the pod Tarantulas had tried to turn into an escape ship and ran a finger along it idly.

"Clever, isn't it?" asked Optimus. "It almost worked."

Rattrap flinched, drawing his hand back quickly. "Yeah. Clever. Too bad the spider-bot failed, eh? We might not be lookin' like this if she hadn't."

"All Tarantulas was doing was trying to get off the planet."

"Yeah, but we coulda stuck a bomb in it or somethin' and sent it to blow up that fake moon." Rattrap stepped around the modified pod to stand with Optimus in front of the blank. "Why're you down here?"

"Just thinking." Optimus looked back up at the blank. "There's no traces of the alien energy in it. Megatron didn't believe it and reprogrammed one of the scanners to detect the alien frequency. Nothing. Not in any of the pods, not in the shell fragments Rhinox brought back, not even in us."

"Does that mean we could spark this one and have it come out a robot?"

"The alien energy wave was what knocked it out of orbit so the pod was certainly affected by it. And then we'd need to find our spark surgeon ... I don't know." Optimus felt something break inside him. The last four days had been a daze of survival and strangeness and saying the words made him realise how hopeless it all was. He ran his hands back through his hair and shook his head. "I don't know."

Rattrap took Optimus' arm and helped him sit down by the wall. Optimus drew his knees up to fold his arms across them and hung his head. "What am I _doing_ here? Half the crew is amnesiac or malfunctioning or both - every stasis pod that's opened has had something wrong with it. The ship is full of Predacons - and if I kick them out, they'll be killed by the environment. I can't do that. Fighting them is one thing but I can't pass a death sentence. And I think we need them because a pack of aliens we can't even properly _communicate_ with decided to turn us into a completely different _species_! We can't even transform!"

Rattrap settled cross-legged on the floor, facing him. "You're doin' what you can."

"It's not enough," said Optimus. "I don't know how to fix it."

"Could be worse," said Rattrap. "We're alive, aren't we? We're out here 'cause you were tryin' to do somethin' good. You couldn't have known the Preds were gonna show up and crash us. You've done everything possible to get us home - no thanks to the Preds that we're still here. And who knows? If you hadn't talked to the aliens, they mighta decided to just kill us instead. I ain't found much to recommend these bodies either but I'd rather be organic and complainin' than metal and slagged."

"_Most_ of us are alive," Optimus corrected, glancing up at a table covered in the scrap of the third wasteland pod. "I don't even know his name," he said. "The pod computer is too damaged to pull any information out of it. I want to recycle the pieces properly - it's the least I can do for him - but I don't dare in case the pieces hold some clue as to what the aliens did to us."

The largest piece of the dead Maximal was a hand and a bit of forearm - in metal, not flesh. "I'm pretty sure it's that whatever it is doesn't turn us organic until after the protoform's solidified," said Rattrap. "It's just that this one went boom before the process could start. Or finish. Whichever."

"We need to find a live, closed stasis pod," Optimus agreed. "It's the only way we'll know how the change happens exactly."

"Let's just hope it's one of the crew."

* * *

"Do we need to be _quite_ this high up?" asked Rhinox, which might have sounded snippy if there wasn't a bit of a waver to his voice.

Megatron added _Fear of heights?_ to his mental file on the Maximal engineer. Most of the journey had been quite near the ground but now they were over the lava fields. "To be honest, I don't know exactly the altitude required to avoid the worst of the lava fumes. I thought it better to err on the side of caution."

It had been a quiet ride to the Predacon base. _Of course, what is there for us to talk about?_ Megatron was chatty by nature but he was concentrating on flying the hoversled. Rhinox had briefly tried to make small talk with Dinobot and Scorponok but neither of them felt like talking.

Megatron looked down at his base. The lava had been quite near the surface of the plain. When the ship crashed, the thin rock crust cracked, creating an effect like a spider web. _Or a target,_ he thought glumly. He frowned, calculating angles. It would be so much easier if they could use the roof hatch but that unfortunately opened into the lava-flooded control room. "Speed will be of the essence," said Megatron, taking his gloves from his pocket and drawing them on. "You may wish to hold on. And hold your breath."

They dropped. Megatron almost wished he could turn to see Rhinox's face. The engineer did gasp in alarm so Megatron contented himself with that. The hoversled dropped to the cargo entrance and Megatron reached over to tap the entry code. He could feel the hot metal through his gloves but they saved him from any further injuries.

It was hot inside, even though the cargo bay was sealed off from the lava and the environmental compensators had been running, but not so hot the air would burn them. Megatron's facial burns immediately began to hurt nearly as much as they did when he first received them and the headache that he'd finally managed to shake off returned full-force. He felt choked by the heat and the stench and had to fight down an unexpected surge of panic. _It's safe here,_ he told himself sternly. _Such as it is. It's not so hot that it will cause harm._ "I suppose I don't have to explain what will happen if you enter one of the sections with lava-flooding," said Megatron, knowing his and Scorponok's injuries were adequate warning. "I trust you all know where they are. Work quickly - we cannot remain in this environment for long, no."

"Where are _you_ going?" asked Rhinox. The engineer was sweating already and ran a hand over his scalp to wipe it off.

"My quarters," Megatron said over his shoulder. "I need to pick up the alien disc and my files on it. Scorponok knows what equipment we have well enough."

"One thing," Rhinox started. "Could the floating platforms be adapted to long-range use?"

"Probably. They're all in the command centre, however ... No," said Megatron. "Two are out in the hall by the lab." He might have been able to summon the hoverpads by voice command, but it wasn't useful if there happened to be a closed door in the way.

Megatron left the others and quickly made his way to his room. _Now to do what I would have done days ago if I was not distracted by pain,_ he thought, annoyed.

He climbed up onto his chair but didn't stay there for more than a few seconds. It made him feel uncomfortably small. Instead, Megatron pulled the computers down on their runners - installed so he could move his workstations to his bath - so he could use them while standing. _It is thoroughly unfair that I have been cut to half my size while Rattrap remains the same height he always was._

He took off his gloves and activated both of his computers - his personal one and the one that tied in with the ship's systems. After slipping a datadisc into his personal computer and setting it to download what he wanted of his research of the aliens and their artefacts, Megatron turned to his other console and ran a full diagnostic of the ship. He had run some scans right after the alien energy wave hit but hadn't been able to concentrate and read more than the basics. Now he knew his worst fears were realised - the pumps down on the control deck that they used to keep the lava to a reasonable level were damaged. Repairs would be easy ... if he were fireproof.

Megatron deactivated the systems the base wouldn't need for a while - the CR tanks, the defence grid - so that more power could go to the environmental compensators. He would have to set up a remote activation once Blackarachnia was done with the commlinks. No need to have the compensators using energy if no one was there and it would be a deterrent to any Maximals who got ideas about sneaking in. Megatron quickly checked in on the cargo bay - some things had been loaded on the hoversled but no one was there now. "Computer, scan for Di ... No. Computer, scan for organic beings over fifty kilograms." That would keep the computer from pointing out every rat and spider that had slipped aboard.

The computer found all four of them. Crosschecking with the security cameras, he found Rhinox and Scorponok collecting the two hoverpads from the hallway and Dinobot entering his old quarters. Not that there was anything in there. The Predacons hadn't even bothered trashing it.

Megatron walked over to his bath - now the size of a small pool - and tapped his rubber duck on the head, sending it bobbing. It was quite possibly the only personal item any of them had brought from Cybertron. Given the circumstances of their departure it wasn't as if they could pack for the trip. But he had brought the duck, stashed in one of his compartments. It had been a present from Scorponok who had heard somewhere that a rubber duck was the thing to have if one took baths. That didn't confer any special symbolism or meaning to it. It was his and he liked it and that was reason enough.

There were other personal items in the room but most of them weren't his. They'd stolen the ship before it had been completed but after some of the crew had started to move their things into it. Whoever the original captain was, he played various sports and won and collected Great War replica items.

There were two pictures that were Megatron's, both of himself - a painting and a photograph. The photo had been taken on this planet, a still from a cyberbee's footage. The painting was Terrorsaur's work, just something to keep the air warrior busy and out of the way, a product of _if you're bored, I'll find something for you to do._ It was simply Megatron from the waist up, in his pre-Earth body, standing in front of a cityscape. It was an accurate enough picture but nothing special. Paint wasn't Terrorsaur's medium anyway.

A rack on another wall held his spare tail-weapons, now as tall as he was. He managed to lift one down but couldn't wield it. Even if it wasn't too heavy, the handle was too big to grip. Megatron spent several minutes trying to fit his hand to it, toying with the connections, stroking the scales. Even those felt alien, memory distorted by too-soft fingers.

He returned to the bath and picked up the duck, careful not to touch the liquid it floated in, cool and inviting as it looked. The chemicals evaporated within seconds and he held up the toy to inspect it. Even the duck was too big now. Making it squeak involved wrapping both arms around it and squeezing.

"You've always been far too fond of that toy."

Megatron tucked the duck under one arm, entirely unashamed to have been caught hugging it. He glanced over at the door. "Feeling homesick yet?"

"I made my choice," said Dinobot. "I stand by it."

"Like you stood by your choice to serve me," said Megatron, setting the duck on his chair before turning around. He wiped a hand across his forehead before the sweat could drip into his eyes. _Well, I finally understand that cloth band Dinobot wears around his forehead._ "Why are you here?"

"I do not trust you. Can you blame me for that?"

"I suppose not." Inwardly, Megatron shrugged. It wasn't as if he was doing anything particularly secret right now. He turned back to his console. "Computer, scan the coordinates of the alien moon. Is it still there? Use the alien frequency."

_"Acknowledged."_ There was a busy silence, then, _"The alien moon is at the expected coordinates."_

"Do you think that destroying the device will return our previous forms?" asked Dinobot.

Megatron shook his head. "No." _But its destruction would mean that the aliens couldn't turn us organic again if we do manage to regain our robotic bodies. But perhaps we shouldn't destroy it, not yet. Maybe we can reprogram it to reverse the change._

_Ha. If we could _reach _it. Finish up Tarantulas' little stasis pod ship and then what? Suffocate on the way up or die in a vacuum?_

Dinobot was standing by the discs, watching them hover suspended in their forcefield, but made no move to touch them. Megatron smiled. _At least being with the Maximals hasn't made him careless._ He tapped a code into the console and glanced back. "You can lift it down now, Dinobot. I've deactivated the security system."

The warrior gave him a suspicious look but bravado won out. Dinobot wiped sweat-damp hands on his trousers, then reached up. Megatron chuckled. "No, not the Golden Disc. The alien one."

"I thought both ..."

"What could I _possibly_ use the Golden Disc for at _this_ point in time?" Megatron knew he was being dreadfully obvious but Dinobot wasn't very good at subtle. If he still thought the Golden Disc was good for nothing but a map to energon the hint would go right past him.

Dinobot tensed, lips tightened to a thin line, and Megatron knew that the warrior already realised the Disc's full potential. _And he wants it for himself. A change of command codes doesn't mean a change of spark, does it, Dinobot?_

The warrior pretended that the last five seconds hadn't happened, turned away, and tugged the alien disc out of the field. The angle was awkward and Megatron watched as Dinobot's grimly determined expression flickered into surprise. At the last second, Dinobot jumped back so the alien artefact wouldn't land on his feet.

Megatron winced at the crash, unable to damp his hearing though he knew it was coming. Dinobot tried to lift the edge of it to check for scratches but Megatron wasn't worried. The artefact had survived Inferno's rough handling when it was first found; a short drop wouldn't damage it. "It's heavier than it looks," he said mildly. Dinobot growled at him.

Megatron reactivated the security system. "I suppose you've seen the moon," he said casually. _Pretend all you like - I won't let you forget who holds the power._

Dinobot hissed. "Yes."

"Here we are, exactly where I said we'd be. Don't you feel foolish for leaving us now?"

"You got the time wrong."

"Details. This time will suit my purposes just as well, perhaps even better." Megatron picked up his duck and cradled it in one arm, then leaned back against his chair. "Primal hasn't confronted me about it yet ... Oh, my." He tilted his head and smiled slowly. "You haven't told them. They don't know where they are."

"Perhaps I will rectify that oversight when we return to the _Axalon_."

"Perhaps, but the fact that you hesitated at all warms my spark."

"Megatron!" Scorponok had reached the door at a run but stopped when he failed to see any danger, standing uneasily in the doorway. "I heard a crash."

"We merely forgot how heavy the alien disc is, so it fell," explained Megatron. "Would you mind helping Dinobot take it down to the hoversled?"

With an angry snarl and much effort, Dinobot lifted the alien disc so he could tuck it under his arm. "I will _manage_," he growled, then awkwardly stalked out, shouldering Scorponok aside.

The Predacon commander chuckled. "If he wasn't so easily goaded he wouldn't be nearly as much fun." He returned his attention to his personal computer, switched out the datadisc, and set about picking through his files of what he knew of the aliens, choosing what he wanted to share with the Maximals. _After all, it wouldn't do to give _too _much away, no ..._

"So ..."

Megatron nodded. "He knows, the Maximals do not, and pride keeps him from admitting I was right. Return to supervising Rhinox." Scorponok shot a quick glare back over his shoulder at where Dinobot had been but nodded and left.

The datadisc for the Maximals completed, Megatron hesitated a moment and got out another one for himself to copy the information he had on the Golden Disc. _A final plan for if all else fails._

When he was done, he reactivated the security system around the Golden Disc, pocketed his datadiscs, picked up his duck, and locked up his room. The Disc would be as safe there as anywhere.

Megatron took a look through the crew quarters but didn't feel the need to explore. Inferno's room was practically empty - but for a few spare weapons, it could have been any unoccupied room. Tarantulas' was entirely empty but that was because she had stripped everything out and moved it to her lair months ago. Given her sense of humour the empty room was probably booby-trapped. Waspinator's room was full of clutter, collections of rocks and feathers and plants and debris - generally anything that was colourful or shiny. Likewise Terrorsaur, though his room was much tidier and he only seemed to collect plants. These were all dead from the heat since the environmental compensators had never been enough for the delicate organic constructs and he hadn't been back to replenish his supply. Blackarachnia's room was a highly ordered mess, full of parts and equipment and computers snitched from various parts of the ship, with half-completed devices spread out over every work surface. There might be useful things inside but Megatron suspected she also went in for booby traps.

Scorponok's was similar in appearance to Blackarachnia's but Megatron knew it would be safe. He went in, looked around, and picked up one of Scorponok's extra cyberbees in case his technician hadn't had a chance to grab one. The little drones had dozens of uses and Scorponok would be pleased to have one again. It was awkward carrying both cyberbee and duck down to the cargo bay but Megatron managed it.

* * *

Cheetor knew he wasn't supposed to leave the command centre unguarded but he was only going to be gone for a minute and it was important. Luckily, Optimus hadn't gone far, just sitting near the edge of the chasm in the sunshine, reading a datapad. Cheetor took the lift down. "Optimus! The Standing Stones are giving off an energy reading!"

He had never seen his leader move so fast in his life. Seconds later, Optimus was on the lift, jabbing at the controls. "When did it start?"

"Maybe a minute ago," said Cheetor. "They're pretty low and it's ..."

Optimus ran over to the active workstation to check. "This isn't the alien energy signature."

Cheetor slipped back into his chair. "Yeah, but I figured you'd wanna know."

"I do," said Optimus, patting him on the shoulder. "Any change in an alien site means trouble. After what they've already done to us, I'm not looking forward to seeing their idea of an encore. I'll get the ... No, blast, Megatron has the hoversled. It would take hours to walk to the site."

"What should we do?"

"Keep monitoring it, Cheetor. Tell me if there's any change. It'll probably be faster to wait for Megatron to come back."


	11. Ill Feelings: Part 4

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
Ill Feelings - part four **

Blackarachnia had caught the flyers, and before they could think of an excuse not to do her bidding, she'd slapped prototype commlinks on their wrists and ordered them to test the range.

"Megatron wants us to stick around and keep tabs on the Maximals," Terrorsaur protested.

"They're sitting around watching the new ones malfunction," Blackarachnia told him. "Get lost."

Terrorsaur and Waspinator complained out of spite more than anything else - they had seniority and hated taking orders from Blackarachnia. On the other hand, disobeying her tended to have nasty consequences and they were perfectly happy to have an excuse to go outside. So they took a walk, checking in with Blackarachnia every twenty minutes or whenever they remembered.

The Maximals had cut a path down to the lake below the waterfall for their own reasons, and that was how Terrorsaur and Waspinator got down the cliff. It felt like an insult to beings who four days ago would have simply flown and arrived in minutes. There wasn't much of a beach there, just a slightly wider bit of rocky shoreline. Thick reeds grew near the shore, sometimes trapping bits of driftwood, including an entire tree. Several large boulders had fallen down the cliffs. Some of the boulders had visible scorch marks.

They hadn't wanted to deal with a jungle. Their burns hadn't healed yet, but more than that, they couldn't fly. Terrorsaur flat-out refused to enter a jungle without his wings and Waspinator couldn't fault his logic - if they lacked the strength to fight and the speed to flee, they were going to avoid anything that so much as hinted at danger.

Terrorsaur's brilliant idea had turned out to be fishing. Waspinator's question of 'why?' had been answered with 'because I like to eat them,' and 'because I used to like to do it,' and 'how hard can it be to outsmart a fish?'

There were casualties but the fish were winning.

Waspinator rolled onto her front and watched Terrorsaur. She was staying out of his way, lying on a large, flat-topped boulder about ten metres away, enjoying the sunlight. Her partner was stalking the fish from the shore. His previous method of fishing was to do it in beast-mode, diving and scooping them up in his long beak. Waspinator suggested he try it that way now. Terrorsaur's reply had been rude.

Of course he tried shooting them but the water refracted the beam of his laser. Terrorsaur had then taken Waspinator's gun with its harpoon-like projectiles but the water slowed the missiles down too much to impale. Plus they exploded, which would have left them with fish paste if Terrorsaur had managed to hit one. It made an impressive splash, though.

So Terrorsaur moved on to more basic methods, taking one of his knives and tying it to a long, straight branch with a bit of fabric he'd cut off his jacket to make a spear. The problem there was that withdrawing the spear from the water too often withdrew the blade from the fish before he could reach it. His current method involved the knife pointed upwards at an angle. The fish came to inspect the shiny blade, then Terrorsaur yanked it up quickly, hooking the fish in the body and flipping it up onto the shore.

It was a system efficient enough to have caught three fat, gray-brown fish, enough for lunch an hour ago but not much else. Waspinator could have taken or left the flavour and it was a nuisance to separate the flesh from the scales and the bones but Terrorsaur seemed happy with them. It could have been a type of beast-mode holdover or just being pleased that he'd killed something.

Waspinator's commlink beeped. _"Blackarachnia to Waspinator."_

Waspinator fiddled with the controls of the device strapped to her wrist. "Waspinator is here."

After several seconds of static, Blackarachnia replied. _"It's been a megacycle since your last check-in. Where's 'here'? Your signal's weak."_

"Lake below the plateau," said Waspinator, looking up, but she couldn't see the _Axalon_ from that angle.

_"You're still there? I told you I wanted distance measurements!"_

"Terror-bot wanted to play with fish," said Waspinator. Hearing his name, Terrorsaur glanced back, realised who she was talking to, and returned to the fish.

_"Get the screecher moving. I need to know the range."_

Waspinator looked back at her partner, torn. Terrorsaur wasn't going to move just because Blackarachnia said so. Distance made him forget how unpleasant the technician could be. _Waspinator shouldn't just ditch terror-bot. Waspinator is terror-bot's back-up!_

Terrorsaur made a quick movement that failed to catch a fish. _Back-up against fishies. Forget it!_ "Waspinator is taking a walk!" Waspinator announced.

Terrorsaur didn't even look back. "Don't fall in the lake."

* * *

Rhinox knelt by the scatter of bones that had once been a lion. All the soft parts were gone, already devoured by scavengers and insects. Even some of the bones were missing. _So much for that._

Though it wasn't on any Predacon patrol route, both Megatron and Scorponok knew where the oasis was. The fact that the Predacons never bothered with the place beyond mapping it was probably why the lion had lived as long as it did.

It was less like a pond and more like a big puddle. Rhinox took a few samples of the water, careful not to touch it. If the contaminant was in it, he didn't want to take any chances. It didn't look too bad but there was a scent to it he didn't like.

* * *

"Hey, 'Bolt. Where'd Quickstrike go?"

Silverbolt looked uncomfortable. Rattrap shook his head. _Right. Lavatory. Where else would he be?_

After a few hours of picking over stasis pod records, Rattrap went back to the xenobiology lab. Tigatron looked up. "Are you going to be here for a while?" she asked. "I could use a break."

Rattrap sat on the other table, leaning back against the wall. "Sure thing, stripes."

"You needn't stay long. I have nothing to do here once I finish up a few tests," chuckled Tarantulas, standing to type on the computer, perfectly aware that she was informally under guard.

Tigatron tidied up the datadiscs she'd been scanning through and left. Several minutes later, Quickstrike returned, grumbling, "Don't see why I even bother comin' back _here_ ..." but the corner of his mouth twitched up when he saw Tarantulas leaning over the computer. "Right."

After a moment, Tarantulas stood up properly and stretched, which Quickstrike also watched with rapt attention. "There," said the Predacon. "The computer should finish running my tests sometime tomorrow."

"That long?" asked Rattrap.

"I'm thorough."

"Great. Another day of this," Quickstrike complained. "How's that go - 'Whatever doesn't kill me makes me wish it did'?" The way he was watching Tarantulas, Rattrap thought Quickstrike might have been feeling better. _Apparently not._

"Ahh, shut it, 'Strike. Shove over, spider." Rattrap could still use the computer for what he wanted it for - Tarantulas' work would just run quietly in the background. He nudged the Predacon aside and popped a datadisc into the reader. "'Strike, 'Bolt, get over here. I know you've been havin' problems acceptin' what we really are ..."

"Do not think we believe you to be lying," Silverbolt said quickly. "Only ..."

Quickstrike made a derisive noise and walked over. "What's this 'we', partner?"

"... We cannot in ourselves accept what you say," Silverbolt finished as if Quickstrike hadn't spoken.

Behind him, Tarantulas laughed. Rattrap rolled his eyes. "I showed you the blank protoform two days ago."

"Yeah and we ain't made of that stuff," said Quickstrike. He glanced back. "You gonna join the party or what, 'Bolt?"

Silverbolt hadn't moved from his chair, sitting with his arms folded tightly across his chest, hands gripping his upper arms. He didn't seem inclined to move. "I can see from here if you step aside."

Rattrap had tried everything he could think of. He'd told them about the Matrix and the Pit back on Cybertron. He got Dinobot to talk history with them - okay, mostly military history, but there wasn't much else anyway. He showed them films about Cybertron. He'd showed them tech specs and security footage of himself and the others and had gotten, "Well, I suppose, if I squinted, _maybe_ I can see how this robot might be analogue to that primate," in response.

Short of opening a stasis pod and having them watch the change, Rattrap had only one trick left to try to jolt the neophytes out of believing they were organic.

"I can't find anything on who you were on Cybertron but I managed to pull the data from the scanners on your pods," said Rattrap, tapping a few keys. "Now, I'll admit things got a little weird but I think that must've been because of all the energon radiation."

The images appeared on the screen to complete silence from the neophytes. Tarantulas chuckled. "Interesting. So their pods each scanned two animals at once and meshed them into one."

"Woulda thought that would turn you into a triplechanger," said Rattrap.

"Maybe but these two seem to be something else entirely. Fuzors."

Quickstrike shook his head. "Now I _know_ you're all just makin' it up."

"It ... does seem a little far-fetched," said Silverbolt. "But, if I somehow was as you say I should be, I _do_ like the design. The wings feel appropriate."

Rattrap sighed, defeated. _Would've been easier if I knew who they used to be. Their memories are so scrambled that they might as well be new creations!_

"'Least you got hands," Quickstrike heckled. "Havin' a snake for an arm might be fun, sure, but it don't make sense!" He jabbed a finger at the image of his beast-mode, something like a scorpion with a cobra for a tail. "Look, a critter like that can't exist. You can't mix species like that and expect it to work. They ain't even got their skeletons in the same place!"

"It doesn't have to make organic physiological sense," said Tarantulas. "It only needs to _appear_ to work on the outside."

"But it _don't_ look like it can work if'n you know anythin' about critters!"

"And I was a big purple spider. So what?"

Rattrap left them to bicker, then went back to check on Silverbolt. He patted the neophyte's shoulder, then reached down to touch the bare skin of his forearm, frowning. "Slag, 'Bolt, you always been this cold?"

Silverbolt pulled away from the contact, an automatic reaction that wasn't really a flinch. "I do not understand. Inside I feel very hot."

_And thank you for telling us this when you first noticed,_ thought Rattrap, annoyed. _These two are worse patients than Dinobot._ "Anything else I should know?"

"Movement is ... difficult," Silverbolt admitted. "I cannot convince my body to obey my directions and it feels to be too much effort to try."

"You'll get over that pretty soon," said Quickstrike positively. "I was feelin' like that earlier."

Rattrap mentally counted to ten. "When, exactly?"

The blond smiled and climbed back up on his table. "Oh, megacycles ago. Right before I blew my tank."

Rattrap automatically stepped away from Silverbolt but not quickly enough to save his boots. The worst part about it, he decided, was the noise. The sight of half-digested matter didn't do anything to him at all, the smell affected his organic body and made his throat twitch involuntarily, but the sound reached him. It was a horrible, wet, organic sound that even his Cybertronian mind could recognise as malfunction. He started to reach over to pat Silverbolt on the back but decided against it. The neophyte didn't seem to like to be touched. _Wait, this looks different from earlier._ What Silverbolt had purged seemed to be mostly water with no solid matter in it. "You haven't eaten today, have you?"

Silverbolt spat and wiped at his mouth. "I have had no desire to. And I had ... hoped to avoid this."

"Eat something anyway. I don't need you falling over 'cause you didn't refuel. At least this'll be easy to clean up." Their old cleaning chemicals could deal with the mess easily. _Might even work on my boots._

Quickstrike rocked back on the table and laughed. Silverbolt glared at him. "I would have thought one who previously had this experience would have more sympathy."

"I'd ask where your dignity was _now_, partner, but I can see it all over the floor. Whee-oo!"

Tarantulas rolled her eyes. "Delightful. Another sample to analyse."

* * *

She'd walked along the lakeshore for twenty minutes before giving up - the shore was just too narrow and rocky and Waspinator decided that she'd rather face Blackarachnia's annoyance than risk falling in the lake. Another twenty minutes brought her back to where Terrorsaur was fishing. Another twenty minutes of watching him was driving her crazy.

Waspinator leaned back on her hands and kicked her heels against the boulder. "Is terror-bot done yet?"

"No, terror-bot isn't done yet," Terrorsaur snapped over his shoulder.

Waspinator sighed and flopped onto her back, regretting that she'd gone with Terrorsaur. He was still having fun but Waspinator was bored. _Waspinator doesn't _have _to follow terror-bot. Waspinator could find something else to do ..._ She considered just leaving but wasn't sure what she could do by herself. _So other option is convincing terror-bot that he wants to do something else._

She had picked up her gun - she had to load it manually now and was considering switching to a laser - and was randomly sighting it on birds when she had the idea. Waspinator sat up and took careful aim - not at Terrorsaur but at the water near him. If he got a soaking he would want to go back to the _Axalon_ for dry clothes. Or he'd just decide to sit in the sunlight until he dried off. Either way it would be funny and he'd give up on fishing.

The water exploded in scales and snapping jaws before Waspinator could pull the trigger.

Terrorsaur's reflexes were enough to save him from the crocodile's initial lunge and he flung himself away from the water's edge with a shriek. Waspinator quickly shifted her aim and fired. The little harpoon buried itself in the greenish brown scales and exploded, taking the top half of the crocodile's head off. The force of the blast would have knocked Terrorsaur to the ground if he wasn't there already.

Waspinator jumped down from her perch and dragged Terrorsaur out of range of the crocodile's death throes. "Terror-bot all right?"

Terrorsaur didn't answer, breath shallow and harsh, entirely focused on watching the reptile thrash. There was blood and flesh splattered on his clothes but none of it was his. Waspinator leaned down and patted Terrorsaur's hair and back and waited for him to calm down. Terrorsaur clung to her, knotting his hands in the hem of her shirt.

Several minutes later, Terrorsaur finally spoke. "That ... that ... Oh, primal forger of implosion!"

The crocodile had gone still. "Critter is dead." She giggled, verging on hysteria. "Terror-bot pokes around all day, catches little fishies. Waspinator catches big lizard! Obviously Waspinator uses better bait."

She expected a smack or at least a glare but Terrorsaur didn't even look at her, still clinging to her shirt. Waspinator stroked his shoulder. "Is all right now. Is just like always - terror-bot distracts and Waspinator shoots!"

Her partner still didn't respond. "Hmph. Waspinator blows off lizard's head, lizard thrashes around too dumb to realise it's dead. Remind terror-bot of anyone?"

The insult finally got through. Terrorsaur released Waspinator's shirt and slapped the back of her thigh. "What's _wrong_ with you? That thing tried to eat me!"

"Terrorsaur should have been paying attention!" Waspinator snapped. _If lizard had attacked when Waspinator wasn't here ..._ She smacked Terrorsaur in the side of the head, just hard enough to let him know she'd been scared, then walked over and prodded at the ruin of the reptile's head with the toe of her boot. "Think lizard is edible?"

"It thought _I_ was, anyway," Terrorsaur complained, getting back to his feet. "Big, dumb, and violent. Megatron would've loved it. We'll never get this thing back up to the plateau. Maybe Megatron is back with the loader sled."

"Waspinator hasn't seen it." Of course the possibility existed that she just didn't notice or Megatron took the long way around.

"Worth a shot." Terrorsaur pressed the activation stud on his commlink. "Terrorsaur to Blackarachnia."

Blackarachnia's static-clouded voice came through a few seconds later. _"Are you planning to bring my prototypes back sometime?"_

"That's why I'm calling," said Terrorsaur. "We need a ride."

_"Walk."_

"We caught dinner - ow!" Terrorsaur yelped when Waspinator pinched him. "_Waspinator_ killed one of those big water lizards. It's too large to carry."

_"Megatron's not back with the hoversled yet."_ There was an annoyed sigh. _"I'll see if the Maximals will let me borrow a loader drone."_

* * *

"Blast it, Inferno, where are you?" Megatron grumbled when he found his quarters empty. Not a big problem, just an inconvenience - nothing could get the stench of lava out of fabric and he'd have to dispose of his clothing himself. Still, his warrior should have returned by now. _With two guns, she _must _be having fun somewhere._

"She's not back yet."

Megatron fell into his chair, too tired to care if it made him look weak. Scorponok had retreated to his room to recuperate. Dinobot and Rhinox weren't nearly as badly off, since it was only their first exposure to the atmosphere of the Predacon base and then only in the safe areas. "Poor hunting today, I suppose." He'd used one of the hoverpads to carry the alien disc, the cyberbee, and his duck to his quarters. The room was small enough that the hoverpad floated in the doorway, propping it open and allowing passing Maximals to look in.

"Not for everyone," said Optimus. "Your flyers caught a crocodile. I sent Tigatron and Blackarachnia down with a loader drone to help them bring it up."

"Oh? Does that mean the commlinks are working?"

"To over a kilometre at least."

For lack of anywhere else to put it, Megatron had propped the disc up on the berth. Optimus walked right in without asking - in someone else, Megatron might have thought he was just throwing his weight around or being rude. This was Optimus and it was more likely he was just too distracted by the disc to remember social niceties.

"... Megatron, what is this?"

_Or maybe he wasn't distracted by the disc._ "A bath toy."

Optimus shook his head. "I'm never going to understand you, am I?" To his credit, he didn't try to grab the duck. The Maximal had some manners, at least. Then, "So this is the alien disc?"

"Yes," said Megatron, then glanced at the Maximal in surprise. _You honestly didn't know. Which means you've never actually seen the Golden Disc. You don't have the faintest idea what it is or what power it holds. Oh, delightful. I just hope Dinobot decides to remain quiet._

Optimus missed the reaction entirely, staring at the disc. "... Two of the symbols just changed."

"They do that," said Megatron. "It's one of the reasons I've been finding translation difficult." He drew a datadisc out of his pocket and handed it to his counterpart. "Here. My researches on the aliens thus far. Perhaps you'll see something in it that I missed." The information on the datadisc would keep the Maximal busy for days. _And who knows? Perhaps he _will _find something I overlooked._

"Thanks."

"Don't bother. I aid you only for selfish purposes."

He'd said it straight and meant every word of it but Optimus took it for sarcasm and smiled slightly. "Thanks, anyway. Just as a head's up, I'm taking the hoversled. There were some energy readings at the Standing Stones."

Megatron frowned. "I thought that site was dead."

"So did I," said Optimus. "I don't plan on getting too close."

Optimus left. Megatron briefly considered going with him but decided against it. If there was danger, better to send a Maximal into it.

He'd worry about it when he had more data. For now, Megatron slumped deeper into his chair and glared at his room. _Far too small. This will not do. Perhaps I can knock out a wall. But first I'm going to take a shower. Cooling down and getting rid of this stench should weaken this headache._

* * *

Of the three alien sites they'd encountered, Airazor had been attacked by two and Optimus had been attacked by one and captured, tortured, and scanned by two ... and one of the latter was the one they were approaching.

If Airazor was apprehensive about going to an alien site again, she didn't show it, standing right up beside him on the hoversled, leaning into the wind. Optimus worried for both of them. The Standing Stones were a dead site, or at least he'd been certain they were until the _Axalon_ picked up new energy readings from them.

When they arrived, Optimus realised he needn't have worried. The Standing Stones were in disarray, scorched and cracked. He set the hoversled down about thirty metres away just to be careful and they approached on foot.

Airazor looked at the nearest stone. It was lying on its side, cracked into three pieces. A few were like that, though most of the stones were only scorched. "Why would the aliens ..." She trailed off, meeting Optimus' gaze, and realised they were thinking the same thing. "Not the aliens. Inferno."

Optimus nodded. "The heat-beam weapon she's got now couldn't do nearly this much damage alone. That's why she wanted one of Tigatron's guns - so she could heat the stones, then freeze them so they'd crack. This is what she planned to do all along."

"But _why_?" demanded Airazor, then, "Right. Why does Inferno do anything? Why did Megatron want the place destroyed? The site was deactivated."

"It's the closest one to the _Axalon_," said Optimus. "Inferno was acting alone, assuming I can trust Megatron's reactions. He was surprised Inferno wasn't back yet. I think he believed she really was just out hunting."

"Which brings us back to trying to guess Inferno's motives." They walked over to the remains of the central table-like structure. It was little more than rubble, stones cracked by extreme temperatures again and again until they were small enough to move. Airazor circled it carefully. "She was digging around here. All the rocks have been tossed out of the centre. If Inferno just felt like destroying something, why go through all this trouble? I'd have thought she'd just go set some wildlife on fire."

Optimus picked his way over the ruins of the table to see what Inferno had been doing. "It might just be that she's angry at the aliens and this was venting."

There was a hole in the centre, not dug by Predacon hands, forty centimetres in depth and diameter. It was lined with strangely blackened metal. At first he thought it was scorched but when he looked closer it was more like how a plant goes black when it dies. There were a few thin supports and trailing wires but the hole was otherwise empty.

"Optimus?"

"She took something from here."

* * *

The cleaning chemicals they'd used as robots were designed to dissolve the organic materials that they picked up from outdoors. They couldn't use them on themselves now - the chemicals burned their skin. Tigatron refused to let them just dump the stuff outside since it would destroy whatever organic material it touched.

It turned out to be for the best that they'd kept it. The chemicals were great for dealing with body wastes. They'd dissolve whatever they were poured on and dissipate as if they had never been. It gave off a lot of heat but that's what environmental controls were for. Cheetor thought it was pretty neat.

There was a groan from the next stall. Rattrap hadn't put those in - he'd installed the plumbing and called it a day. Silverbolt had insisted on partitions, which ended with Rattrap shoving a welding kit into his hands, pointing out where they kept extra metal sheeting, and telling him to have at it. The welds were a bit sloppy but all in all Silverbolt had done a pretty good job. _Well, of course. He's Cybertronian. Welding is basic._

Cheetor knocked on the partition. "You okay? That sounded like it hurt."

"Would you _please_ not talk to me in here?"

Silverbolt. Cheetor rolled his eyes, finished up, washed his hands, and waited. After a few minutes, Silverbolt emerged, tense and embarrassed and trying to pretend he was alone. His appearance surprised Cheetor, who hadn't seen him since the day before - the neophyte looked drawn and worn-out and pale. "You're not in there any more," said Cheetor. "You okay?"

"I do not wish to discuss it," said Silverbolt stiffly, washing his hands.

"Why do you find it embarrassing?"

"It is not a polite topic of conversation."

"Why not?" Cheetor persisted. "I mean, you're not embarrassed by eating, and this is just kind of the other end of that."

Silverbolt made an odd kind of strangled noise and closed his eyes, leaning against the sink. "I do not need to hear comparisons of bodily functions, Cheetor, thank you."

_Sheesh. Rhinox wasn't kidding when he said Silverbolt was a bad patient. He can't even _think _about his body without getting embarrassed, let alone tell anyone what's wrong with it._ Cheetor let Silverbolt retreat, then quickly checked the stall he'd been in. The chemicals took several minutes to do their work.

Cheetor caught up with Silverbolt in the corridor and fell into step beside him. "So ... have you told Rhinox about the blood or do you need me to do it?"

* * *

Dinobot stood in the shadow of the _Axalon_ and looked up at the sky. The moon wasn't out yet and the alien device would be invisible anyway. _It is impossible that the false moon remained undetected while the Great War was on Earth. Between now and then it _must _have been destroyed ..._

_... Or ... not?_

He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, as if to hold his thoughts before they could slip away. _Is this _not _how it was meant to be? Did we change the future by crashing here in the past? But then what agency removed the false moon before our era? Have we simply not done so _yet_? Is it nothing to do with us and the aliens will take it away at some later point?_

_Is this as it always was?_

_Everything I've done, everything I've fought for, the choices I've made ..._

_... Were they ever _my _choices?_

Movement in the distance caught his attention and Dinobot automatically reached for his sword. He released it, undrawn, when he recognised the figure. _A threat, but not one I may fight right now._

Inferno - dirty and dishevelled, hands and arms scraped up, trying to march but too exhausted. Her heat-beam weapon was strapped to her back while one hand gripped one of Tigatron's guns and the other held ... a rock? Dinobot frowned. _No, not a rock. Something metal._

When she was about ten metres away, the lift hissed and Optimus jumped down before it finished descending. "Stop right there, Inferno."

The Predacon stopped but disengaged the safety on the cold-blaster. "I must report to Megatron."

There was no fight - Inferno was barely keeping on her feet as it was. Dinobot slapped the cold-blaster out of her hand and knocked her to her knees before she could even react. Inferno let the Maximals disarm her but refused to relinquish the other object. She simply hunkered down and curled around it so that Dinobot couldn't pry it out of her grasp. Optimus didn't even try.

Optimus said, "Megatron will be here soon."

Inferno glared up at him. "Very well."

Dinobot collected up the guns. "What is that she has?" All he could see was that it was dark, spherical, and it worried Optimus.

"An alien device. She found it under the Standing Stones."

Only when Megatron arrived did Inferno stagger to her feet and open her hands, offering up the device to her leader. "Forgive me for being unable to enact more than a token vengeance, Megatron."

The sphere was fifteen centimetres in diameter, a dark, tarnished blue with a gold band looping around it and blue glass insets. While metal, it had a strangely organic look to it. Megatron looked at it closely without taking it from his warrior's hands. "There seems to be writing on it but none of the symbols from the disc."

"I'm not letting you bring that thing into the _Axalon_ until I'm _sure_ it's deactivated," said Optimus flatly.

Megatron made a derisive noise. "You think I would? You may have been the one the probe took but you are not the only one who was attacked by the Standing Stones."

_To be continued ..._

* * *

A/N: Yeah, yeah, it'll be at least March or April until the next chapter. Things get worse for the fuzors and Dinobot finds himself running a murder investigation.


	12. This Most Bloody Piece Of Work: Part 1

The rain had started three days ago and showed no signs of letting up. Cheetor had gotten tired of it within an hour.

Optimus was in the command centre, up to his elbows in some project. Rhinox was busy going over Tarantulas' research in his room. Dinobot was on monitor duty - technically it was Optimus' shift but Dinobot was tired of holing up in his room and wanted something to do that didn't involve getting rained on. Quickstrike and Silverbolt were still sick and Airazor was looking after them because Tigatron had decided to brave the rain. Cheetor didn't know where Rattrap was except on the _Axalon_ somewhere, so he set out to look for him. Hopefully Rattrap wouldn't mind company. If he did, Cheetor wasn't sure what to do. There were Predacons around but he wasn't sure that he wanted to hang around with one, no matter how bored he was.

He thought the cargo bay was as good a place to start looking as any. As it turned out, there were people there, just no one he wanted to see. Megatron and Scorponok were a short distance into the room, their backs to him and talking quietly. There were a few tools and chunks of metal sheeting near Scorponok's feet and some crates had been moved. This wasn't unusual or even particularly threatening. The cargo bay wasn't off-limits to the Predacons.

Then Cheetor realised they were looking down into a hole in the floor. _Well, they probably shouldn't be taking the place apart._ "Hey! What are you two doing?"

Megatron glanced back. "Did you know you have a corpse under the deck plates?"

"... What?"

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
This Most Bloody Piece Of Work - part one **

It would simultaneously annoy the Maximals and make them feel the Predacons were resigned to the truce, which meant it was Megatron's idea. Another Predacon might have complained about the work. Scorponok didn't. He liked working.

Scorponok was in the _Axalon's_ cargo bay. He'd had to move a few crates to get at the spot he wanted, a quarter of the way in from the main door. He took up the bolts that held the deck plate, stuck a wedge in the crack, then stepped back to let the loader drone lift the metal sheet. This was a specialised device, built for the room. The _Axalon's_ other two loader drones were something like barrel-shaped forklifts on treads. The one in the cargo bay was more like a ladder crossed with a forklift and a winch besides. It was on treads and stabilised by six legs - four on the bottom and two on the top to grip the ceiling. It bothered Scorponok that he had to use the drone. The deck plates in here weighed about the same as he did now and he'd always been able to lift several times his own weight before.

Deck plate removed and drone out of the way, Scorponok lay on his front to reach down and unfasten the lower plate that would give him access to the level below. His arms were too short to reach but the impact wrench would give him just enough range ... then he noticed the hand.

Scorponok yelped and scrambled back, nearly falling over in his haste. _Maximal still metal! Very bad!_ He grabbed up a cutting torch, took a defensive position, and realised he wasn't being pursued.

The technician edged back to the hole in the deck, his teeth chattering nervously. The hand hadn't so much as twitched.

He prodded at it with the tip of his torch, then burned a small hole in one of the fingers. When it didn't move, he got up and removed two more deck plates to get a better look. This uncovered the left arm, the head, and part of the upper body of a dead Maximal.

Scorponok crouched down to inspect the body shell. It was lying on its back. Tires on the arms, so some kind of ground-alt. Off-road type, he would guess. There was a Maximal sigil stamped on the forearm. Light blue and tan paint. A few shards of glass left in the shattered optics. Scorponok lay down on his front so he could reach down and touch the shell. His fingers recognised shell-grade plating but detected no energy fields - all metal felt dead to his organic senses, anyway. The broken optics were the only damage he could see.

He propped himself up on his elbows, chin in hand. Scorponok briefly considered alerting Optimus since it was his problem but programming and habit took over and he used the _Axalon's_ intercom to call Megatron.

Megatron arrived a few minutes later and frowned thoughtfully at the corpse. "Interesting."

"What do you think happened?" asked Scorponok, standing beside him and fiddling with his gloves. He wore them only to keep him from picking at the blisters on the backs of his hands. The gloves had no fingertips - like the rest of the Cybertronians, Scorponok didn't like to damp his tactile sensitivity more than he had to.

"Hm. A stowaway perhaps," said Megatron. "A strange hiding place, though."

"Yeah, but either too good or no good. No beast-mode either."

"Then he may have died before the ship even launched. Unless he was able to damp his energy signature, the Maximals would have noticed him." Megatron tapped a claw-toed boot on the edge of the hole. "If he was still alive after the ship crashed, he could have died of energon surges when we stole the _Axalon's_ rectifier coil."

Scorponok shook his head. "I'd expect to see burn marks if he surged to death."

"He died before the change, certainly."

Attention absorbed by the corpse, they didn't hear that the door had opened or that Cheetor had come up behind them until he spoke: "Hey! What are you two doing?"

Megatron looked over his shoulder at the Maximal. "Did you know you have a corpse under the deck plates?"

Cheetor's mouth dropped open. "... What?"

"Some Maximal ground vehicle," said Megatron, casually stepping aside to let Cheetor see. "No one I recognise. If you'll give us a hand moving him, perhaps we can ..."

Scorponok doubted Cheetor could see much from where he stood. Apparently it was enough because the Maximal turned and bolted. Megatron made a derisive noise. "He'll be back with reinforcements soon enough. Enjoy the quiet while you can."

They managed to remove another deck plate before there were running feet and shouting. "_Megatron! What the slag did you do?_"

Megatron sighed and looked up from where he was kneeling. Cheetor had brought Optimus and Dinobot with him. "Hello to you too, Primal. Scorponok found a stowaway. I'm helping get him out."

"Back off," Optimus ordered, more harshly than Scorponok thought they deserved. After all, the Predacons had only found the corpse. Megatron shrugged, so they retreated several steps to give the Maximals space.

The first problem was that both the shell's legs and one arm had been secured to pipes with cable. A pair of heavy metal snips took care of the bonds. Optimus took the body shell by the arm and pulled but in the end it took all three Maximals to wrestle it into a seated position. Now Scorponok could see the back of its head. There was a small hole burned there.

Megatron smiled. "Well, well. The exploded stasis pod was one thing, but _this_ ... Murder on a Maximal science vessel. This _is_ getting interesting, yes."

Optimus glared at him. "Would you just go _away_? This is Maximal business."

"Scorponok found him, therefore it is our business as well," said Megatron. "Besides, we Predacons are the only ones who can't _possibly_ have had anything to do with his death."

"You sound certain," said Dinobot.

Megatron rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't start. I'd never had the slightest interest in the Axalon until it started shooting at us and you know it. Not every dead Maximal is my work."

"Well, if you're so determined to help, you can help us move him," said Optimus sharply.

Scorponok glanced over at his leader but Megatron was too curious and in too good a mood to complain about being ordered around by Maximals. Which was lucky for the Maximals since it took all five of them and the loader drone to get the corpse out of the crawlspace and onto the floor - the legs had been carefully wedged between a couple of pipes and couldn't just be yanked out by brute force without damaging the ship.

"Oof! Are we taking him to the repair bay?" asked Cheetor.

"He's a bit past needing that," said Megatron. The muscles in Optimus' arms tightened as if he would have taken a swing at Megatron if his hands hadn't been full.

In the end they pushed three crates together and set some sheet metal on top for a makeshift table, then laid the corpse out on it. The Maximal leader turned to the two Predacons. "We'll take it from here. It's our problem, not yours."

"I suppose curiosity and entertainment value don't count for much around here," sighed Megatron, "but I haven't lived this long by ignoring Maximal dagger-in-the-dark shenanigans, no."

"If I promise to keep you informed will you just go away?" asked Optimus, exasperated.

Megatron considered that for a moment. "Yes. Say it."

Optimus sighed. "Fine. I promise to keep you informed. You and Scorponok go find something to do somewhere el ..." Something seemed to finally dawn on Optimus. "_Why_ were you ripping up the floor?"

Scorponok shrugged. "I was laying pipe."

"... Why?"

"To move water."

"_Why?_"

"I'm renovating my quarters," said Megatron casually. "Knocking out a wall, adding a bath, getting the room up to my basic standards. Unless you have some objection, Optimus ..."

Optimus slumped. "Just go."

The Predacons left. Megatron waited until the cargo bay door closed behind them before laughing. "Well. At least he's too preoccupied with this little intrigue to care what we're doing to his ship."

* * *

"Good news, Inferno," Megatron announced. "You and Scorponok can be as loud as you like."

Inferno, seated on the berth in the quarters she shared with Megatron, set aside the datapad with the blueprints Scorponok had come up with and smiled, flashing even, white teeth. She wasn't the most mechanically inclined Predacon but she could follow simple diagrams easily enough. The rest of the berth was covered in various tools - neither of them actually used it for sleeping. "Finally." Trapped inside by the rain, unable to vent her violent impulses on the local wildlife, Inferno longed for destruction.

Megatron chuckled. "Be not too overzealous, no - we still must live here after all."

"Also, that wall's got two power cables running through it," said Scorponok. "Cut one and you'll electrocute yourself."

The warrior nodded. Another might have automatically protested that they'd taken worse damage but Inferno seemed to have an innate understanding of her body's limitations. _One advantage to operating at such a basic level,_ thought Megatron. _Her mind may be confusion but she adapts to new bodies easily._

Scorponok could fill Inferno in on the morning's events. Megatron left his minions to their work and stepped out into the hall. The quarters to his right were empty. In theory they were Inferno's, but she insisted on staying with her leader, so the room was going to be added to Megatron's. The quarters to his left were used by Scorponok, and were where Megatron had been working before he was interrupted by the dead Maximal. _Which I will _have_ to find some use for. Watching the Maximals get upset is amusing at least. Though it reflects badly on us that we Predacons had nothing to do with either dead Maximal on this planet._

Megatron and Inferno had moved their few belongings into Scorponok's quarters for the day, to keep them out of the way of the work. It made the room extremely crowded with the extra packing foam sheets rolled up and leaning in a corner and Megatron's oversized chair in the middle of the room, but such things were temporary. The alien disc was propped up on Scorponok's berth. Beside it was the device that Inferno had found under the Standing Stones.

There was a table, which only made things tighter. Scorponok had made it or dragged it in from somewhere but Megatron couldn't use it. It was covered with small tools, scrap materials, a personal computer, and the cyberbee Megatron had brought back from the Predacons' ship. The cyberbee's head was open and a few wires trailed out into Scorponok's computer. Like Megatron's personal computer it was a self-contained unit not tied in with the _Axalon's_ mainframe. Lacking a transmitter, no longer able to command his cyberbees with a thought, Scorponok was trying to come up with a new control mechanism. Megatron inspected the cyberbee without touching it, resisting the urge to tinker. Cyberbees weren't just drones, they were pieces of Scorponok, and Megatron respected him enough not to meddle in that.

His cheek itched and he tried to ignore it. The blisters on his face were drying up, and where the damaged skin flaked away, there was new skin underneath it. He picked up the alien sphere to keep his hands occupied.

Megatron sat in his chair, turning the alien sphere over in his hands like a puzzle box. Scans had been useless. The gold band looping around the device was the same type of unknown metal as the disc and the blue sphere was a different kind of unknown metal. He wasn't even sure if the sphere was solid or hollow. There were symbols etched into the band but they were not the same as those on the disc. They weren't even similar types of symbols. It was maddening.

He looked up at the disc. The symbols changed again as he watched. Megatron sighed. Five spaces on the disc, each space cycling through three symbols at random intervals. Each symbol represented a place or a thing - four he was sure of, two he thought he knew, and the other nine were complete mysteries.

A tortured scream of tearing metal and Inferno's triumphant laugh came from his room, muffled by the wall. Megatron smiled faintly and shook his head. _At least _someone's_ having fun._

* * *

Dinobot circled the prone body on the makeshift table, then prodded at the wound in its head. "You know him," he said, "but why warn Cheetor not to admit so in front of Megatron?"

"Because I don't know what happened and I don't need to give Megatron another reason to laugh," said Optimus. The anger in him had left with Megatron. Intruder gone, now among friends, Optimus no longer had to pretend strength. Shoulders slumped, he stood beside the table, patting the shell's forearm like it was the corpse who needed comforting. Optimus had sent Cheetor off to run monitor duty and fill in Tigatron and Airazor on the situation, then called Rattrap and Rhinox down to the cargo bay.

"Hm." Dinobot brushed carbon dust off his fingers. "My first thought was that his death must have occurred long before you took command of the _Axalon_, perhaps early in its construction, but I take it that wasn't the case."

"His name was Crossbolt," said Optimus heavily. "He was supposed to be part of our crew. Rattrap was his replacement."

"Yeah, he vanished and the _Axalon_ was ready to go, so I was dragged in at the last minute," said Rattrap.

Dinobot raised an eyebrow. "Why you?"

"'Cause I knew Rhinox."

Rhinox nodded. "They didn't want to stick us with an unknown at the last minute. Not on a long-term mission."

"So now we know what happened to you," said Optimus, squeezing the shell's hand. "Dinobot, I want you to find out what you can about his death. I know there's not much to go on ..."

"What?" Rattrap jabbed a finger at Dinobot. "This sorta thing is my kinda job! Why are you handin' it to this fender-headed, stinking ..."

"Predacon?" Dinobot asked sharply, and while Rattrap withdrew his hand, he didn't back down. "Because I can be objective - I do not know this person. I have no stake in this and I wasn't anywhere near the _Axalon_ when he died."

"Oh, right, _you_ were off stealin' a space cruiser and killin' people."

"But not _this_ person."

"Megatron would believe that anyone else was biased in their conclusions," said Optimus.

Rattrap snorted. "Who cares what he thinks?"

"_You're_ not the one he's going to be acting smug at. If Megatron is satisfied with what he hears, he won't try to find his own answers." Optimus suddenly glanced over at Dinobot. "I mean, I'd rather have him renovating his quarters than trying to hack Sentinel."

"Megatron will keep pushing to see how far he can go," Dinobot warned.

"I'll push back when it's important," said Optimus. "A bath isn't."

"It is to Megatron."

Rhinox touched Optimus on the shoulder. "If you need anything ..."

Optimus reached up and patted his hand. "Get back to work on trying to fix Quickstrike and Silverbolt." The engineer nodded and left. Rattrap shot one last glare at Dinobot before slipping away.

Dinobot looked back at the body shell. "Who was he, Optimus?"

It was several moments before Optimus spoke. "Crossbolt was a close friend of mine. Rhinox knew him, but only casually. Cheetor only met him once or twice. He was a trader between Cybertron and some of the colonies. He thought an exploration mission would be an interesting change of pace. Until now, I'd always thought he'd just backed out."

"I had not heard this before."

"No." No explanation but the tone was enough. _I thought my friend had abandoned me. It hurt me to speak of him, so we never spoke of him._ "We realised he was missing about three megacycles before take-off. When we couldn't find him, we thought that meant he didn't want to be found, so Rattrap was called in. We loaded the last of the cargo and left three megacycles late."

Dinobot frowned. "You didn't search long."

"There was no evidence of foul play and we were on a schedule," said Optimus. "Crossbolt was in the habit of leaving without telling anyone, anyway. It's not uncommon for people to have second thoughts and drop out of long-term missions. It's why we can call on replacements at short notice." He slumped, resting his elbows on the makeshift table. "The last thing he said to me was, 'Hey, you want I should start getting the stasis hold ready?' I told him yes. That was it - five nanoclicks and he was gone again."

"You could not know what was to happen."

"I know." Optimus groaned and shook his head. "I suppose I have to tell Megatron that I've put you in charge of the investigation."

"I will inform Megatron. Do not concern yourself for me." _Best that I make myself Megatron's target. In your current condition, I don't think you can handle him._

Optimus left Dinobot alone in the cargo bay with the corpse. He pensively tapped his fingers by the wound. _Investigation was never my function, but I have my orders ..._

* * *

He had woken shaking and sweating from a nightmare into a small, windowless room in the enemy base and he was _still_ a soft, organic thing. After a beginning like that, Terrorsaur was amazed to find that his day could in fact get worse.

It was still raining. He could hear it drumming on the hull. There was to be no respite from the confines of the _Axalon_. He'd gone to find Waspinator in her room, hoping that friendly company would calm him.

The fliers were sitting on Waspinator's berth, cross-legged so they could face each other, concentrating on each other and on their cards. Terrorsaur didn't know where Waspinator had found them. He couldn't see her asking a Maximal for anything, even something as simple as a deck of cards. Most of the deck and a few discards were stacked neatly between them. They were both quite good players. That wasn't what they were practicing.

Waspinator suddenly tossed her cards down in frustration. "Terror-bot is lacking bits! Waspinator can't read him!"

"We'll need to come up with some alternate signals," agreed Terrorsaur, gathering up the hexagonal cards and shuffling them again.

"Waspinator can't concentrate. Waspinator is hungry."

Which was when things went worse. Waspinator was friendly company, sure, but no amount of demands, threats, or asking nice would make her shut up about the crocodile.

It was because of Waspinator that no one had to go out in the rain to get more supplies. The problem was that Waspinator liked to remind everyone of it at every opportunity. It didn't help that the story got longer and less accurate with every retelling.

_I don't _have_ to go with her,_ Terrorsaur thought, following Waspinator into the refuelling centre. _Except I'm also hungry and I hate the feeling._ That and he didn't like being alone in the _Axalon_. Truce or not, he liked having Waspinator there to watch his back.

"... Then big water lizard knocked terror-bot over and terror-bot screamed," Waspinator prattled, reaching into the decontamination chamber to carve off a chunk of crocodile. "So Waspinator tackled water lizard and wrestled it to the ground ..."

_I wonder if anyone would notice if I killed her._ He _sometimes_ liked having Waspinator there, he amended. Terrorsaur found a sprayer of cleaning chemicals and misted the table, careful not to get any on his hands. Inferno still had a red mark on the back of one hand where she'd been splashed.

The chemicals evaporated within seconds, taking any dirt with them. Waspinator dropped the meat straight on the table and cut off a bite-size piece. "... And Waspinator forced water lizard's mouth open and shot right down ..."

_They'll notice because it's suddenly quiet. I wonder if they'll thank me._ He pulled one of his three knives and started cutting off pieces for himself. "Shut up. You're driving me crazy."

"Jealous!"

"Waspinator," said Terrorsaur as evenly as he could manage through clenched teeth, "I've been stuck inside for two days. If I have a breakdown, I'm _taking you with me._"

"Oh." Had she still been a wasp, her wings would have buzzed contritely. Lacking those appendages, Waspinator simply focused on picking apart her food. Suddenly, "Maybe terror-bot should sit in a storage locker for a while."

"You have five clicks to make sense before I hit you."

Waspinator looked offended. "If terror-bot is in a tiny place, when he comes out, rest of ship will seem big."

"That has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever -"

The door opened and Terrorsaur's mouth snapped shut out of 'we don't talk in front of the Maximals' habit. Airazor hesitated only an instant before walking in, a little more stiffly than usual. _Now,_ wondered Terrorsaur, _is it just because we're Predacons or specifically because we're us?_

If Airazor wasn't his least-favourite Maximal, she was certainly in the top two. It wasn't because she'd utterly shredded him two minutes out of her pod. That was bad but Terrorsaur didn't hold grudges for wounds inflicted in battle. It was that she was a Maximal who took up his airspace. He never felt Optimus counted with his jetpack and lack of a flight-alt, but Airazor was up in his sky like she owned the place.

"If you're looking for fruit there's none left," said Terrorsaur unnecessarily as Airazor checked the bin, trying to get her to leave faster. "Lots of crocodile, though," he added, glaring at his partner.

Waspinator, on the other hand, held grudges against anyone who'd ever taken a shot at her, but she also had a very short attention span. "Waspinator killed it!" she crowed happily. "Waspinator is still the best Predacon! Ahem ..." To Terrorsaur's dismay, she started singing. "_Waspinator is wonderful! As everyone knows! She kept big lizard from biting terror-bot's toes! Waspinator is amazing! As all can see! She kept big lizard from biting terror-bot's knees! Waspinator is stupendous! As all are aware! ..._"

_I will kill her. I will feed her to her smelt-spawned crocodile. Then I will kill the crocodile._ Terrorsaur glanced over at Airazor, who was by the decontamination chamber with her back to them, seemingly entirely focused on cutting small bits of meat, except that her shoulders were shaking slightly. _And you can join her, Maximal!_

"_Waspinator is ..._ is ... Terror-bot, help Waspinator spell."

For the first time that day, Terrorsaur smiled.

* * *

Airazor retreated from the refuelling centre before she broke down laughing. She knew if she did at least one of the Predacons would take offence and then she'd have to deal with both of them. She had what she came for - two small containers of bite-sized bits of meat. She would go find her own fuel later, preferably after the Predacon fliers had left.

Quickstrike and Silverbolt had spent most of their short lives together. Their pods had come down in the same place, they stuck together in the wasteland, and they could usually both be found with either Rattrap or Dinobot, learning about Cybertron and disbelieving every word of it. They'd started malfunctioning at the same time. Sure they bickered and snapped at each other but they were just always _together_.

It came as a surprise to some people that they honestly couldn't stand each other.

The neophytes flat-out refused to wait around in the xenobiology lab, not because it was boring but because they wanted to be out of one another's company.

_And sick animals hide,_ thought Airazor, pressing the chime on Quickstrike's door. It was something Tigatron had said once, soon after Airazor had come online. They were on a scouting patrol together and had happened across an antelope that was too weak too move. Tigatron had said it then, a bit surprised: _"Sick animals hide."_

_"Why?"_

_"To show weakness in the wild means death."_

_Well, we're not animals,_ thought Airazor. _If one of our own is malfunctioning, we look after him, we repair him. We won't eat him. Though I wouldn't put trying past the Preds ..._

Quickstrike unlocked the door with a voice command and Airazor went in. He had been curled up, but he stretched out and propped himself up on one elbow when she entered. According to Tigatron, he spent most of his time sleeping. Quickstrike's body seemed to think it would heal faster in stasis and kept him unconscious as much as it could. "Just couldn't resist me or are you fillin' in for stripes today?"

"Tigatron's out. I told her I'd check in on you," said Airazor. This just involved looking in on Quickstrike and Silverbolt, making sure their conditions hadn't worsened, making sure they stayed hydrated and ate occasionally, and keeping them company so they wouldn't go stir-crazy.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Ain't it kinda wet outside?"

"She doesn't mind the rain."

Quickstrike looked awful. His skin had gone paler than hers, his hair was a worse mess than usual, and it was obvious he'd been wearing the same clothes for the last four days, unable to summon the energy to clean up and get changed. Unusually, he was wearing his sleeves long - he tended to have them rolled up to his elbows. He hadn't shaved either and now had a short beard. The only one who could make facial hair look good was Rhinox, Airazor decided. It just made the others who had it look scruffy. Quickstrike was the only one of those who didn't mind it - even Rattrap shaved occasionally, disliking the feel of fur around his mouth.

Airazor held up one of the small containers. "I brought food if you feel like eating."

The blond groaned and slumped so he could cover his head with his hands. "What's the point, sugar? It all just comes out again one way or the other."

She couldn't blame him not wanting to go through with it. Quickstrike's body seemed determined to reject any fuel he put into it. Even if he managed not to vomit, defecation was inevitable. Most of them just considered it a minor nuisance. For the neophytes it was painful and bloody. On the other hand, if he didn't refuel at all, his body wouldn't have the energy or material to try to repair itself. Airazor set down one of the containers on the shelf nearest the berth. "I'll leave it for you if change your mind."

Quickstrike peered out from under his arm. "Ain't my mind that's the problem, sugar."

Airazor left Quickstrike to sleep and went to the next corridor to see how Silverbolt was doing.

Silverbolt was drawn and pale but in better condition than Quickstrike. Where Quickstrike completely let himself go, Silverbolt kept his hair brushed and his clothing neat. The latter was mostly hidden at the moment since Silverbolt was sitting on his berth with his feathered cloak over his shoulders and pulled around his body. He set his datapad aside - he hadn't had the chance to get a proper computer for himself yet - and managed a smile. "Airazor."

"Hey, 'Bolt." She winced at a crash and a string of curses from the next room - nobody could swear like a Predacon technician. The noise of Megatron's renovations had been barely audible from Quickstrike's room but Silverbolt's was right next to Inferno's. "Are you sure you want to stay here while the Predacons are banging around? I know there are extra rooms."

"I will stay. I do not mind the noise." Silverbolt shrugged, ruffling his feathers. "I find I prefer it, actually. If I cannot participate in the life of the _Axalon_, I will at least hear it."

"Your choice, but if you get fed up with it, let me know, okay?" Then, remembering her original reason for being there, Airazor held up the container. "Do you feel up to eating?"

"Not really." But he had a faint smile that said he was willing to try for her sake.

Airazor handed him the small container and picked up the datapad so she could sit next to him. The text on the screen caught her by surprise. "You're reading the colony environmental regulations manual for fun?"

Silverbolt picked at the crocodile meat with his fingers, looking for the smallest piece. "I am told that I am a Maximal. I requested the manuals so I could learn how I should act."

_I guess there's worse ways._ "Anyone else been checking in on you?"

He finished chewing and swallowed before he answered. "Yes. Optimus Primal. Rhinox. Tigatron. However, Rattrap is the only one who visits for the sake of visiting."

"Rattrap? Really?" Rattrap was sociable but making calls on glitching neophytes was more altruistic than Airazor expected from him.

Silverbolt nodded. "He makes off-colour jokes but he stays to talk and answer questions and he brings me new datadiscs. I do appreciate him."

She debated telling him about the corpse in the floor and decided against it. The neophytes had enough problems without needing to worry about anyone else's. Let them concentrate on healing.

* * *

Small alien sphere in hand, Megatron went up to the materials lab. He wanted to see if he could open it. He also wanted to get away from the noise of the renovations for a while.

He had been perfectly content to ignore the aliens before this. They were just another unusual feature of an already unusual planet. They could be dangerous but they could also be avoided. Then they decided to be proactive and forcibly change his species. Megatron had immediately shifted his policy of 'avoid the aliens' to 'hunt the aliens down and force them to give his metal back.'

Blackarachnia was there. Megatron briefly wondered if she ever left the room, though he could admit she had little reason to do so. Here were tools and supplies enough to keep her occupied. She was sitting on the floor with her back to him and hoverpad parts spread out around her. She didn't look up when the door opened. "For the last time, I'm not putting booby-traps in anything!"

"Why not?"

The technician jumped and looked back. "Because Maximals keep dropping in and checking on me," she complained, turning to look at him. "When I'm done, I'm going to strap a big, obvious bomb to this thing. It'll make them happy."

Megatron walked over and tapped the thin handrail on the nearest hoverpad, another new feature. "And distract them from the real trap?"

"Oh, no. They'd never fall for that. Anyway, we _are_ supposed to be helpful to our hosts," said Blackarachnia innocently. "Besides, between the rhino and the rat, they'd catch anything I did. If I need to sabotage something, I'll do it later, after they've checked everything over."

Megatron smiled. "Good. How _is_ your work coming?"

"The ape let me use the ship's transmitter to find which of our jamming towers are still up - there's four within range at least. Scorponok and I plan on reprogramming them into signal boosters for the commlinks. As for the commlinks, the tiger's borrowed one of them. I've done as much as I can on them for now," said Blackarachnia. She tapped her pliers on the edge of the hoverpad. "Though these should help with the range testing. Of course, I can't test these either until it stops raining - I don't want to risk water getting in and shorting out the works."

"You might not need to worry about Maximals dropping in so much now. They're a bit preoccupied," said Megatron, then quickly filled her in on the morning's events.

One of Blackarachnia's eyebrows vanished under her bangs. "And here I thought Maximals had such dull lives."

"It's probably nothing we need to worry about since it has nothing to do with us," said Megatron, idly toying with the alien sphere. "Still, best if the news is passed around. You wouldn't want to go into the cargo bay and be left wondering why there was a dead Maximal in there, I'm certain."

Blackarachnia smirked. "_You're_ wondering."

"I saw the look on Primal's face when he saw the corpse. There's more going on than the Maximals are admitting to," said Megatron darkly. "Though they don't know what happened. Dinobot of all people claims that he's looking into the matter. I will deal with him later."

Megatron set the alien sphere on the table and went to see what tools were available. He knew the gold band was the next best thing to indestructible, but possibly he could cut through the dark blue metal to see what was inside. The glass insets showed him nothing, even when he tried shining a light into them. When he returned to the table with a cutting torch, Blackarachnia was peering at the sphere. He nudged her aside. "Did you see one like it in the monument?"

"No. That all looked like machinery. This looks like an abstract sculpture," said Blackarachnia. Where Terrorsaur refused to talk about the times that he'd tried to take over the Predacons, Blackarachnia had no such recalcitrance. She failed, she was punished, she moved on.

"I would like to inspect the wreckage of the flying island. If it ever stops raining," said Megatron, clamping the alien sphere in a vice.

"I can't say I'm eager to go back."

The torch worked. Megatron cut out a small triangle, which fell into the sphere. He fished it out with a pair of long-nosed pliers.

The alien sphere was hollow and full of wires. Something like wires. They were very brittle - many had broken already and they crumbled on contact. The ones that the heat of the torch had touched had burned away like fine mesh.

He frowned. _It's clearly metallic yet it makes me think of plants._ It led to the odd thought that the sphere had been planted and the Standing Stones had grown organically from it rather than been constructed. _The alien structure that spoke to Optimus, that was organic or something like it, at least in part. On the other hand, from all accounts the monument was built and I'm quite certain the Standing Stones were as well. Why is there no _pattern_?_


	13. This Most Bloody Piece Of Work: Part 2

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
This Most Bloody Piece Of Work - part two **

The wound was at a downward angle. The assassin was either very tall or hovering - Crossbolt was as big as Optimus had been as a robot.

The realisation startled Dinobot. _I'm used to Optimus being smaller than me yet this person is his true size._

Dinobot removed the burned panel. The metal was textured - etchings made a grid pattern all over Crossbolt's helm. The motif was echoed on his arm and leg panels. _Foolish. Etchings weaken the metal._ Some people thought aesthetics were more important than practicality.

The shot had gone clean through the processor. A low-level laser blast then, enough destroy the processor and shatter the optics, but not enough to come out the other side.

He turned the head to the side so that he could see the face. It held no particular emotion - no surprise, no pain, no fear of death. Crossbolt must have died so quickly he never noticed he'd been shot. The neutral expression only enhanced the horror of the dark optics with ragged glass still clinging to their frames. _'Thou hast no speculation in those eyes which thou dost glare with!' Another may find you frightening but I am used to the various manifestations of death._

Dinobot stood back, frowning at the body, his mind on decoration over function, which was why he noticed it. In a well-designed Cybertronian body all parts were functional. Even on someone as vain as Terrorsaur there was no extraneous metal. But there were pieces on Crossbolt that looked like they were supposed to be there, only Dinobot couldn't see how they fit or what use they would be.

There was a semi-cylindrical raised section on the corpse's forearm. He levered a wedge into the seam where the raised section attached and pried it open. It was more difficult than he expected, even remembering his decreased strength - the etched plates had reinforcing panels behind them. On the inside, Dinobot could see that the raised bit on the body's inner arm wasn't a random detail, it was a casing to hide a wrist canon. Dinobot prodded at the assembly with the wedge, trying to find the control to open the outer casing ...

_Snap!_

Something inside the corpse's arm bit off the end of the wedge. Dinobot regarded the sheared end of the tool. _Had I been using my fingers, I would have none now. It seems Crossbolt booby-trapped himself. If all these useless-seeming pieces hide weapons, he's very well-armed. Hnn. I approve of your choice of friends, Primal._

_But this means little._ It made sense for a person who spent most of his life hauling cargo alone on the spaceways to be well-armed but not advertise it. At least it made Maximal-sense, preferring to be seen as friends and not conquerors while still able to defend themselves.

Dinobot sighed. _Were he anyone but someone meant to be in the _Axalon's_ crew, I would say that anyone might have killed him anywhere then simply stowed him on the ship as a way to dispose of the body. It isn't as if it was a secret that the _Axalon_ was going on a long-range mission._

* * *

When the door opened, Rhinox barely glanced back. One other person knew the code to his quarters and he couldn't see why anyone else would bother trying to hack it.

Rattrap came in without a word, then climbed up on the berth to sit cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. When he didn't say anything, Rhinox continued reading his computer screen. Tarantulas had sent him a lot of scan data and he didn't understand any of it despite his best efforts - he was a botanist, not a biologist. However, he didn't like the thought of the care of the neophytes being solely in the Predacon scientist's hands so he tried to make sense of it.

After ten minutes, Rattrap still hadn't spoken. Rhinox didn't find the silence uncomfortable but glanced back anyway. "What are you thinking?"

Rattrap laughed, a bit nervously. "Oh, nothin'. Buncha mushy friendship stuff you don't wanna hear."

"I might."

"Trust me, you don't," said Rattrap with mock severity, hopping down from the berth. He paused long enough to squeeze Rhinox's shoulder, then retreated.

For Rattrap it was a surprisingly open display of emotion and as close to vulnerable as he ever got, but under the circumstances, Rhinox could understand it. _If that had been you under the deck plates, I'd be as badly off as Optimus._

* * *

The _Axalon_ had imperfect soundproofing. If someone was shouting it could be heard in the next room or in the hallway outside. Certainly the noise of the renovations to his quarters could be heard in the main hallway. Megatron glanced over - he was outside Waspinator's room, and she and Terrorsaur were yelling at each other loud enough to be heard over the construction down the hall.

Megatron sighed and kept walking. If Terrorsaur or Waspinator was upset it was one's default action to run to the other. When they got mad at each other they'd split up for several hours to cool off. However, the stress of being trapped inside the enemy base was causing them to stick together even when they were angry with each other.

The Predacon commander dropped off what was left of the alien sphere in Scorponok's room, then backtracked and pressed the chime beside Waspinator's door.

The door opened. Waspinator looked up at him, ready to shout at the intrusion, and visibly reined herself in. "Megatron? What does Megatron want?"

"Come with me," he ordered. He looked past the scout at Terrorsaur. "Both of you."

They followed him to the xenobiology lab. Tarantulas looked up from the computer. "What, is data compiling a spectator sport now?"

Megatron told them about the corpse. Tarantulas grinned. "Really? A dead Maximal?"

"Still robotic. You can't eat him," said Megatron, then turned to the fliers. "I want you two to keep track of the Maximals."

Terrorsaur raised an eyebrow. "What, all of them?"

"Just Dinobot and Optimus. Do _not_ interfere with them. Simply watch and report back to me if they do anything interesting."

Terrorsaur and Waspinator left. Tarantulas swivelled her chair to look up at Megatron. "We've got something as fun as a murdered Maximal on the ship and you're trusting _them_ to gather information?"

"No, I'm trusting Dinobot to gather information. I'm just keeping the fliers occupied and apart."

"Hm." Tarantulas touched her fingers together. "So you came all the way up here to deliver gossip in person."

Megatron leaned back on the closest table and drummed his fingers on the edge. "I have other matters to discuss with you. You must have seen the _Axalon's_ records on humans by now," he said. "One very basic encyclopaedia entry. The only vital information in it we hadn't already deduced was our expected lifespans." _Which are pathetically short. One vorn!_ The Predacon commander shook his head. "Earth was the last major alien battleground in the Great War. There _should_ be more information about it and its inhabitants."

Tarantulas shrugged. "The Maximal government declared the place forbidden. They clamped down on the information available as well."

"_Why?_"

"I'd always assumed it was because the humans were fed up with us and asked that we forget about them and leave them alone," said Tarantulas. "What does Dinobot know?"

"He knows that he likes the writings of that one human," said Megatron flatly. He had read translations of several of Dinobot's beloved plays himself. The themes and motivations were generally accessible enough but they were set on an alien world in an alien culture and he missed all the subtleties. Dinobot might know a bit more so that he could fully appreciate the stories but Megatron didn't see what use culture would be to their situation. "He knows we're on Earth. He's certainly deduced what species we are." _And while he threatened to tell the Maximals what he knows, he hasn't yet done so._ "He knows nothing we do not."

Tarantulas looked back at the computer screen. "Why is it everyone who comes out of a pod has amnesia?" she asked suddenly.

"Bad landings."

"Sometimes, perhaps. Blackarachnia's pod was fine but I reprogrammed her. Inferno's pod was in perfect condition and the _only_ thing I did to her programming then was change her faction," Tarantulas said. "You said Tigatron wasn't even sure she was a Maximal when she was decanted. Silverbolt and Quickstrike could be blamed on energon radiation ... Does Airazor remember her life on Cybertron?"

"How should I know?" demanded Megatron, stepping away from the table to pace. "Terrorsaur's report said there were problems with her pod, however."

"Including energon radiation." Tarantulas frowned. "I wonder if memory loss is common among those put into protoform stasis. I've never heard of it before but I haven't dealt with protoforms in this sort of situation before. Maybe it's just the energon."

"They still have their skills and personalities," said Megatron, thinking aloud. "Though personality would be more a function of the spark and the two from the wasteland seem to have no skills at all. But the others ... skills but no memories."

Tarantulas shook her head. "Sparks also store memories."

"The people in the stasis pods are new creations, then." His pacing brought him to Tarantulas, where he stopped and looked over her shoulder at the data on the screen.

"Blackarachnia definitely had a previous life on Cybertron. I should know - I'm the one who removed it. Inferno ..." Tarantulas shrugged. "Nobody's programming could be as messed up as Inferno's was without a _lot_ of dabbling. Her pod was a bit unusual. I wish I'd had a better look at it."

If the Maximals had ever wondered why Inferno was rarely seen for her first few weeks after activation, they never asked. Megatron and Tarantulas had taken the warrior apart, trying to fix her programming to rid her of her belief that she was an ant. They only partially succeeded and decided to give up in case they made things even worse. "If there was a way to reach sparks now ..." Megatron started, then shook his head. "I will make quiet inquiries about the previous lives if any of the other protoforms. What are you doing?"

"This?" asked Tarantulas, waving at the computer screen. "Genetic analysis of Quickstrike and Silverbolt. Frankly, I'm surprised they've got the right number of limbs, their DNA is so strange. I'll let you know when I've figured it out."

"Speaking vaguely of genetics, have you determined why we all seem to be the same age?"

"Not _exactly_ the same, I think."

"Close enough," said Megatron. "The aliens scaled our heights, approximated our colours and builds, and then they put us all at the same developmental stage regardless of our true ages."

Tarantulas chuckled. "Given that there's nearly a four-vorn gap between Scorponok and Terrorsaur, scaling might be difficult. And some of us have ... complicated ages. After all, would you count Blackarachnia's age from when she was first sparked or from when I made her into a new person? But I think it ties in with something else - these bodies are as perfect as flesh can achieve. We're strong and healthy, our eyesight is clear, our hearing is sharp ... Oh, there's individual differences, but what can you expect from organics? And now we find that we're young adults - right at the peak of our physical development, I'd expect. We're prime specimens of this species, I just don't know why."

* * *

Terrorsaur had chosen Dinobot. It wasn't that he had any real desire to be around the warrior, it was that he was in the cargo bay. The nice, big cargo bay.

It wasn't ideal, it wasn't even very good, but it was better than his quarters or the hallways that he would swear were slowly constricting. Terrorsaur stepped into the room and took a deep breath. He'd grown so used to the feeling that there was a tight band around his chest that it was a surprise to breathe normally again.

Dinobot was sitting on a crate behind the makeshift table, watching him, had been as soon as he heard the door open. Terrorsaur smirked at him. "Enjoying your new office?"

"_You_ are."

The smirk became a scowl. Terrorsaur's claustrophobia was no secret and he resented anyone who used it against him. "I suppose this brings back memories for you," said the Predacon, gesturing at the corpse. "Did you pull the job randomly or does Optimus know you used to be a -"

Dinobot snarled and his glare was so murderous that his eyes should have gone green. Terrorsaur ended the sentence in a strangled squawk before realising that he hadn't been shot. He coughed and pulled himself back together. _Well, we're even now._

The warrior returned his attention to the body shell, tapping a pair of pliers against an open panel, one of a half-dozen. Dinobot had removed the corpse's plating in several places. Terrorsaur couldn't think of why - Megatron had said the Maximal had been shot in the head. "_This_ was never my function but I know the procedure."

Terrorsaur walked over, standing across the table from Dinobot. "What have you got?"

Dinobot shook his head. "You're a terrible spy."

"I can't just be curious?" asked Terrorsaur, bringing a hand to his chest in a wounded gesture. "I suppose this is the first time you've been in a room with a corpse you didn't make."

"_I_ do not hide bodies," said Dinobot. He shook his head. "The _Axalon_ was delayed for three megacycles looking for this person."

"They can't have searched very hard."

"If they hadn't been delayed," said Dinobot, more to himself than the air warrior, "the _Axalon_ would not have been in a place to pursue our ship. We would have been destroyed by that warship." For all Megatron's careful planning, the Predacons had still been detected and chased by one of the Maximal defence ships.

Terrorsaur shrugged. "We were evading it pretty well. Maybe they sent the _Axalon_ after us because it was more manoeuvrable. Maybe the _Axalon_ got in the way and the warship didn't want to hit it. Who knows why Maximals do anything?" Terrorsaur made a noise of disgust. "Like this etchwork. Nobody's done rectangular etchings for vorns. It's all curves and scrollwork now."

"So he didn't keep up with fashion trends."

"Etching weakens the plating - the only thing it's good for is decoration, so why waste it on an ugly design? And these washed-out colours ... So which one of your new friends did it?"

The sudden question caught Dinobot off-guard, as it was meant to, but he rallied too quickly to blurt out anything incriminating. "The investigation is ongoing."

_So he hasn't actually figured anything out yet._ "I hope it's Cheetor," said Terrorsaur. "It might make that little puffball interesting." _Depending on how long this takes and how badly Megatron wants to upset the Maximals, we could start a betting pool._

"It was not necessarily one of them." Dinobot stood suddenly and walked past him.

Terrorsaur moved so that the table stayed between them. "Where are you going?"

"I need more information," said Dinobot, already halfway through the door. "Don't touch anything."

The door closed. Terrorsaur glanced at the corpse and huffed quietly. "Not _my_ kind of materials."

* * *

Dinobot found Rhinox in his room. Optimus might be a better source of information regarding the _Axalon_ but Dinobot had just enough tact to not want to bother him more than he had to.

Rhinox waved him in. "Who was on the _Axalon_ on the day of the murder?" Dinobot asked before the door closed.

"There were maybe forty loaders and technicians working on the _Axalon_ on the last day," said Rhinox. "That doesn't count the bystanders who came to say goodbye or who just wanted to watch the ship launch."

"As I thought - most of my suspects are on Cybertron," said Dinobot, shaking his head. "This assignment is an exercise in frustration."

Rhinox frowned. "Most of?"

"The crew is here," said Dinobot flatly.

"You think one of _us_ could have done it?" Rhinox demanded. "I know you're trying to cover all possibilities but that's just too much."

"_Could_ have, certainly." Not particularly likely for practical reasons. It would have been better to leave the body back on Cybertron if it was one of them. "When did you see Crossbolt last?"

"Two days before takeoff." When Dinobot looked disbelieving, Rhinox spread his hands. "We were working in different sections of the ship. I was double-checking the systems, he was loading cargo."

"Hnh." It put Crossbolt in the area of the cargo bay at least. "Is there a list of the people who were working on the ship?"

The engineer thought about that. "Of the technicians who built the _Axalon_, yes. Not of the labourers loading supplies. There would be records of them on Cybertron, not here."

Dinobot growled. "Whatever you can give me."

Rhinox swapped out the datadisc at his computer, typed for a few seconds, then removed the disc and handed it to Dinobot. "I know there's not nearly enough information. No one's expecting a miracle, Dinobot. Anything you find will be appreciated."

"I do not do things by halves."

"I know you'll do whatever you can."

_Trying may be enough for a Maximal but failure is failure to me._ Dinobot tucked the datadisc into a pocket. "One unrelated question ... why did the warship stand down while the _Axalon_ pursued our ship?"

"We were the only ship in the area that could track a transwarp jump," said Rhinox with a shrug. "When you shot at the warship, you knocked out their scanning array."

Dinobot frowned. "They told you that?"

"Yes." Then, sensing Dinobot's sudden tension, "Why?"

The warrior felt his fists clench. _I will own my crimes. I will not accept blame for one I didn't commit._ "We never fired on the warship."

It took Rhinox a minute to find his voice. Seeing the Maximal off-balance and nervous was unsettling - usually he was as sure and steady as a rock. "You're certain?"

"_I_ was the one at the weapon controls," said Dinobot. "Our plan was to out-manoeuvre them. We didn't have the firepower to fight a Maximal warship."

"They must have had a malfunction then ..." said Rhinox uncertainly.

"Or they lied to you."

"They wouldn't," Rhinox insisted. "There must have been a malfunction and they thought it was caused by your ship." He paused. "But if we hadn't been delayed ..."

Dinobot nodded. "Possibly we would have been destroyed by the warship. Possibly Megatron's plans would have continued unopposed. The time seems so short. Could not a long-term mission be delayed for a few days?"

"No," said Rhinox flatly. "It couldn't. Can we cut this short? I need to get back to the xenobiology lab."

The warrior let himself be evicted from Rhinox's quarters and watched the engineer walk off down the hall, not quite stomping but visibly agitated. _Some sort of conspiracy, perhaps, some undivulged pretence of treasonous malice ..._ Dinobot shook his head. _Ridiculous. If someone wanted the _Axalon_ delayed for a few megacycles, he could have found an easier way than vanishing one of the crew._

* * *

Tarantulas looked up. "Megatron tells me Scorponok found a dead Maximal on the ship."

"He's metal," said Rhinox. "You can't eat him."

"Megatron said the same thing. Tch, it's like I have a _reputation_." The Predacon shook her head and changed the subject. "Oh, and guess what I found out about your neophytes!"

"What?" asked Rhinox. If Tarantulas sounded this cheerful, it could only mean bad news.

The Predacon beamed. "They've both got two sets of DNA."

Of all the answers he was anticipating, that one wasn't on the list. "Is that even _possible_?"

"Apparently," shrugged Tarantulas. "The DNA in Quickstrike's blood isn't the same as the DNA in his hair for instance. I don't understand how it works yet, it just does. It gets better."

Rhinox covered his eyes with his hand briefly. "What is it?"

"I'm pretty sure they've got the same DNA."

"Like clones?"

Tarantulas shook her head. "Nor like twins. They're chimeras. Each had his own set of DNA, but somewhere along the line bits got swapped out with each other. Probably when the pods scanned each other. To put it in simplest terms, for an example, it might be that Silverbolt's DNA said he was to be blond while Quickstrike would have dark hair, but those factors got switched around."

Rhinox considered that. "The records from their pods show DNA scans from four different animals - two each, not the same two for both."

"I can't tell which sections of their DNA were swapped around but I _can_ tell you there are only two patterns." She laughed. "We _knew_ the change happened fast, but so fast it caught those two in mid-scan? I could almost find the aliens impressive."

"That's what's making them glitch?" Rhinox asked, hope sinking. _I was so certain it wasn't a structural problem. I can't repair damage to their genes!_

"Oh?" Tarantulas picked a datapad out of the pile and tossed it to him. "Oh, no. That water they drank out in the wasteland had a type of aggressive amoeba in it that's attacking their intestinal linings. Hungry little things."

_You figured it out megacycles ago and didn't bother telling me,_ thought Rhinox, angry, but didn't bother voicing it. It wouldn't do any good. Tarantulas was only doing the work because she found biology interesting, not because she cared about the health of her patients, and Rhinox needed her to do it. He read the report carefully. "Any ideas on how to cure the infection?"

"Hadn't thought about it. Trying to figure out how their DNA works was more fun."

_Don't hit the Predacon. The Predacon knows more about biology than you do. You need the Predacon's help. Focus on finding a solution._ "Nanites, maybe. The amoebas are big enough that they could be identified and killed."

Tarantulas considered that. "They'll have nanites floating around in their systems."

"I can program them to disintegrate at a given signal. They'll just become a bit more iron in their blood."

"Mmph," said Tarantulas. "Maybe once won't cause them any undue harm." There was an unspoken, _Too bad. It might have been interesting._

* * *

"Who ordered you to come on the _Axalon_ mission?"

Rattrap yelped and nearly dropped a wrench on his foot. He turned to glare. "I liked you better with metal feet."

It had taken some work to locate Rattrap. Dinobot finally found him hidden away in Sentinel's chamber, doing minor repairs. "Who ordered you to come on the _Axalon_ mission?" he repeated.

"What do _you_ care?"

Dinobot folded his arms across his chest. "Because the possibility exists that whoever ordered your presence also ... created the circumstance that you could be ordered."

"We're Maximals, all right?" snapped Rattrap, crouching to retrieve his wrench. "We don't do that. You've been around Megatron too long to think there might be other ways of doin' things."

"Then explain so I may understand." The request for information was genuine enough, though he couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Fine." Rattrap turned back to his repairs, poking at the exposed panel without really doing anything. "I was actually the _Axalon_ project's first choice for a jack-of-all-trades type but I said no 'cause I didn't wanna leave Cybertron. Crossbolt was the second choice and he took it. Crossbolt went missin'. They looked all over for him. They couldn't find him, they called me back. They were in a hurry so they didn't give me a choice. The end." He looked back at Dinobot and made a face. "Need to see my transfer documentation?"

Dinobot ignored the sarcasm. "Yes."

"You're serious about this."

It was the incredulity in the Maximal's voice that did it. Dinobot grabbed the front of Rattrap's shirt and lifted him off the floor. "I have been set a task. _I will complete it._"

"Cheese, chopperface, settle down." Once back on the floor, Rattrap turned and started away. "C'mon then."

Dinobot followed Rattrap down to his quarters. He had never actually been inside the Maximal's room before and found himself hoping he never would be again. The room stank with odours both machine and organic, crates and boxes were stacked haphazardly around the walls, and the floor was nearly hidden under a layer of debris. Dinobot kicked a small spool of wire and lost it in the mess. "Did the cleaner drones give up in despair?"

Rattrap was already digging through a storage locker. "Nah. I closed off their runs to the room."

"Why?"

The Maximal shrugged. "Cyberbees. Spiderdrones. Reprogrammed cleaner drones. You name it."

"Why would _anyone_ want to spy on _you_?"

"Why _wouldn't_ they?" Rattrap retorted, striking a suggestive pose. Dinobot rolled his eyes at him and Rattrap chortled and went back to his search.

Dinobot remained near the door, not trusting a floor he couldn't see. Rattrap's small feet could navigate the mess but anyone else would trip over something. "Did you know Crossbolt?"

"Well enough."

The tone said more than the words. "You didn't get along."

Rattrap shrugged without turning around. "Optimus saw one side of him, I saw another."

"What did _you_ see?" asked Dinobot.

The Maximal paused in his rummage through the locker, considering. "I guess he could be friendly enough, but he was chilly, y'know? Like he could just switch off his emotions whenever he wanted to. Real professional," said Rattrap bitterly.

"You speak ill of the deceased."

Rattrap made a derisive noise and slotted a disc into a datapad, then tossed it to Dinobot. "I think he tried to be a good guy, he just made bad choices. And if that idiot didn't get himself killed, I'd be back on Cybertron, in a bar, one hand full of high-grade and the other full of waitress." Red eyes narrowed. "Comin' on this mission wasn't _my_ choice but I figured I'd eventually have the option of goin' home. I _tried_ to make the best of it, and now we're stuck on _this_ crazy planet and we ain't even the right _species_! _You think I wanted this?_" As he spoke, the Maximal's voice got louder until he was shouting. "And don't you _dare_ tell Optimus I said any of that!"

Dinobot waited a moment, then nodded. Rattrap's desire to be back on Cybertron was generally known but Dinobot hadn't realised how vehement it was. "Where were you on the day of the launch?"

"Down on Cybertron," said Rattrap, clearing the top of a crate with a clatter so he could sit on it. "I got a whole bar in Nova Valvolux that can alibi me if you wanna try to interview 'em."

"You weren't watching the launch?" asked Dinobot. "I would have thought you would at least go to see Rhinox off."

The Maximal shrugged. "Rhinox knows I don't like good-byes."

Dinobot activated the datapad. The transfer form looked like any he had ever seen. Then he saw the name at the bottom. "Zenith? Of the Council of Elders?"

Rattrap looked over in surprise. "You recognise the name? I don't know five Maximals that know their names, let alone any Preds. Everyone just thinks of 'em in the collective."

"I ... know politics," said Dinobot. "Why would a Maximal Elder have such an interest in the _Axalon's_ mission?"

"You ... know politics," Rattrap mimicked. "Optimus' got the rank to be on their radar." Dinobot nodded - they called their leader 'Optimus' so casually it was easy to forget it was his title, not his name. "And Zenith knew Rhinox. He'd ... Basically, if you see an Elder outside the Citadel, it's probably Zenith checkin' up on something. So he'd been to the colony a few times."

Dinobot growled. "Maximals have _many_ colonies. You spread yourselves thin and take away resources that could be better used on Cybertron."

"Makin' more Preds ain't what I'd call 'better use'," said Rattrap flatly. "I'm talking Colony Omicron." The way he said it, it seemed like Rattrap thought it didn't need further elaboration.

Dinobot crossed his arms impatiently. "And?"

"You never heard of the place?"

"I don't keep track of Maximal colonies."

"It ... Well it was the last assignment Optimus and Rhinox had before the _Axalon_ was built." He paused, considering. "That's where Optimus met Crossbolt, too. Omicron was one of his regular stops."

* * *

The huff of disapproval caught Optimus' attention and he looked up from the central workstation to see Dinobot standing at the entry to the command centre, frowning across the room. Waspinator was at the far right station, absorbed in the flashing colours on the screen. Dinobot went over to Optimus and dropped his voice: "She should not be using the computers in here."

Optimus felt himself smile slightly for the first time in hours. "I'm pretty sure Megatron sent her up to spy on us. Cheetor loaded up a video game for her. She's forgotten we're even here."

"Hff. I suppose if she's playing, she's not hacking the computer."

From Dinobot it was praise. Cheetor walked over and beamed at him. "What do you need, Dinobot?"

"I wanted to speak to you," said Dinobot, glancing back at Waspinator. Apparently deciding that the Predacon was no threat, he continued. "As the pilot, you would have been up here during the final megacycles before take-off."

Cheetor nodded. "Yeah, I was doing pre-flight checks and stuff." Cheetor glanced up at Optimus and cringed in on himself, looking miserable. Optimus reached over and patted his arm. "If anyone noticed something was wrong, it should've been me. Sometimes an alarm would get tripped by accident. I mean, the ship was crawling with people. I checked up each time because it's policy to always check on an alarm even when you know it's an accident. But there wasn't an alarm for Crossbolt."

"When did you see him last?"

"Just before the shift started," said Cheetor. "He was chatting to Optimus outside the cargo entrance. I went over to say hi and Crossbolt made some joke about there still being time to back out and I told him that I wasn't going to. Then he went inside the ship."

"I will be accessing the security logs later," said Dinobot. "Optimus, I have some questions -"

Anything else the warrior would have said was cut off by a shriek. "Useless!" yelled Terrorsaur, stomping into the command centre. "Oh, sure, you can shoot a crocodile but you can't watch a Maximal!"

Waspinator scrambled to her feet and shouted back: "Terror-bot doing his job so much he let lizard-bot wander away!"

"Yeah, well, I found him again. He'd have gone back to the cargo bay eventually anyway."

"Terror-bot says Waspinator is slacking off when terror-bot not even in the right room!"

_I don't need this. I can't deal with a couple of Predacons screeching at each other, not right now._ "Both of you - out," said Optimus. "Now."

Their anger immediately changed targets. Terrorsaur glared at him. "You don't order us, Maximal."

"Oh, terror-bot knows Maximals. Always think they can tell Predacons what to do," Waspinator snapped.

_If they don't go away, I'm going to hit one of them, Optimus thought. And the worst of it is I don't think they're doing it on purpose._ "Leave."

"I can't _take_ this any more!" Terrorsaur screeched, rounding on Waspinator again. "I have to put up with your incompetence every day and if you _ever_ sing again -"

Dinobot grabbed each flier by the arm and threw them onto the lift, then punched the control that made it descend at maximum speed.

The lift returned, occupied with a dripping wet Tigatron. Dinobot gave her a small nod of approval - the tracker was as fully dressed as she ever was and had a hand laser and a knife hanging from her belt, practicality winning out over ideals. She also had one of the experimental commlinks around her wrist and a box strapped to her back. "Cheetor told me what happened. I returned as soon as I could. Why are you dropping Predacons on me?" she asked.

"It was the fastest way to get rid of them," said Dinobot.

Cheetor glanced at Optimus. "That wasn't a truce violation, was it?"

"Not when it was also the fastest way to end Terrorsaur's panic attack." Dinobot frowned, glancing back at the hallway.

_Right. Terrorsaur's claustrophobic._ "Is that how it usually manifests?" asked Optimus.

"That's how it starts."

When it was clear Dinobot wasn't going to elaborate, Optimus shrugged inwardly. Dinobot had told them various traits of the Predacons but rarely went into detail. He had enough respect for his former comrades not to talk about their personal lives.

Optimus changed the subject. "Tigatron, dry off and take over monitor duty. Cheetor, come find me when Tigatron's relieved you. I'll be in my quarters. Dinobot, come with me." He knew he wouldn't be able to talk about Crossbolt without getting upset. If a Predacon saw, it would just give Megatron something else to use against him. Better to have this discussion in the privacy of his room.

It surprised him when the first question Dinobot asked when the door closed behind him was, "How did Rattrap meet Rhinox?"

Optimus glanced over. "Rattrap did some trading between Cybertron and a few of the colonies, including one Rhinox was on."

"Omicron?"

_How did he hear about Colony Omicron? There's no record in the _Axalon_!_ "... Yes."

He was saved having to explain further. Dinobot nodded. "Rattrap said he knew Crossbolt. If they had overlapping trade routes, it explains the connection."

Of course Colony Omicron would mean nothing to Dinobot. To a Predacon it was just another Maximal colony. At most he might know it had been destroyed. Optimus relaxed a bit, though made a mental note to reprimand Rattrap later. There were words it was better not to say at all. "I didn't know they'd met."

"Did Crossbolt have any enemies that you know of?"

Optimus sat on his berth, elbows on his knees and hands dangling. "He didn't have any."

"He had at least one."

"He was just a trader!"

"Everything points to Crossbolt being targeted specifically." Dinobot paced the room angrily. "I thought possibly someone wanted Rattrap on this mission but it would have been easier to transfer Crossbolt away." Dinobot stopped suddenly, looking back over his shoulder. "Could this have been targeted at _you_? As far as you knew, your friend abandoned you without so much as an explanation. Something to demoralise you."

"I ..." Optimus considered that a moment. "No. I wasn't the most popular Optimus and there were people who were jealous that I got the assignment to start an outer colony, but they wouldn't have killed someone for it."

"Then we are back to Crossbolt himself. This was no crime of opportunity. There was too much effort involved," Dinobot insisted. "It was common knowledge that the _Axalon_ was going on a long-term mission. Exploring and colonising, which says to me that 'long-term' could easily be 'permanent' if you found a suitable world. If someone merely wished for Crossbolt to be out of the way, he was already putting himself out of the way. Instead, someone snuck aboard a ship crawling with workers and killed him without setting off an alarm. Then he hid the body." The warrior paused. "Were you not suspicious when Crossbolt left without taking his things?"

"His quarters were cleaned out," said Optimus. "It's why we thought he just left."

"So time was taken to do that as well. Which quarters were his?"

"It's the room Airazor and Tigatron have now," said Optimus. The door chimed. "That'll be Cheetor."

Dinobot hissed in annoyance, either at him or the world in general. "Then I will find one of them." He stalked out, though the effect wasn't as impressive as it had been when he had a tail to lash.

Cheetor slipped in. "You okay, big bot?"

"I'll recover." A part of Optimus' mind insisted that they were in the middle of a crisis, that he didn't have time to mourn and mope about and cling to his friends. It was right, which only added a layer of guilt. He shoved it aside - better to take some time now to grieve than to bottle it up. In these bodies, there were no more physical advantages - he needed his mind clear to deal with the situation and with the Predacons.

_Tomorrow I'll get back to acting like the Optimus I'm supposed to be. For today, I just want to be Primal, who lost a friend._


	14. This Most Bloody Piece Of Work: Part 3

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
This Most Bloody Piece Of Work - part three **

The large, dangerous animals avoided the _Axalon_, but the local rodents moved right in. It was warm, sheltered, full of wires to chew, and there were no predators.

Well, not many.

Airazor's hand darted out and caught the mouse before it could duck under a pipe. The rodents really liked the engineering section. There were all sorts of nooks and crannies to hide in.

She held it up by the base of its tail and inspected it critically. There wasn't much eating on a mouse. A few of them could make a decent snack, though catching them burned more fuel than they were worth. They couldn't just be eaten whole any more either, upping their nuisance value. On the other hand, she was fed up with crocodile. Rattrap complained about it sometimes but it was his own fault for choosing a tasty alt-mode.

"Airazor."

She looked up. "Hey, Dinobot."

He had a scanner in one hand. The warrior tilted his head, not quite a nod. "I require access to your quarters."

"What for?" asked Airazor. "Part of your investigation?"

"Yes. Your quarters were originally assigned to Crossbolt."

"Don't tell me my room is haunted." Dinobot said nothing. The glare was enough to chastise her for making light of the situation. "Sorry," said Airazor. "What do you need?"

"I wish to see if the assassin left anything behind. I may need to remove some floor panels."

Airazor let the mouse go and stood. "Whatever will help. I never noticed anything unusual but I'm only ever in there to sleep. How's Optimus holding up?"

"Not ... well," said Dinobot reluctantly, falling into step beside her. "He needs to be strong now - if Megatron senses any weakness in him, he will exploit it. If you are concerned, check in on him yourself."

"I'm concerned, it's just ... I don't know what to say," Airazor admitted. "I'm always out scouting, flying patrols - I don't know Optimus that well. Not personally."

Dinobot made a derisive noise. "You say that to _me_."

"I didn't know the crew before I woke up here. You've been around longer and spend more time with him than I do," said Airazor with a shrug.

"Give sorrow words. He will appreciate your concern, even inelegantly phrased." Dinobot said it like an order, a tone that allowed no further comment. Airazor hid a grin. _Play 'I am the dark Predacon outsider' all you want, Dinobot - you're worried about him._ Admittedly, things had to be pretty bad if Dinobot was worried but it was always nice to see him care.

They reached her quarters. Airazor stood back and let Dinobot prowl around with the scanner. There wasn't much for him to trip over - despite the fact that both Airazor and Tigatron lived there, neither owned much. The wall racks held a few spare weapons and Tigatron's wet clothes. There was a star chart of Cybertron's system on one wall and a fist-sized rock sitting on the table. Airazor had searched hard for the most typical-looking rock she could find.

Dinobot found what he was looking for in the wall between Airazor and Cheetor's quarters, just a bit that was solid where it should have been hollow. Tools were fetched and it took both of them to lift down the wall panel.

Airazor peered around Dinobot. "Is that all?"

There was a rifle and a couple of small boxes. Dinobot glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "You ask that?"

"The _Axalon_ was a colonising mission. They didn't know if they would ever see Cybertron again," said Airazor. "I'd have thought he'd want to take more of it with him. Why didn't he pack for the trip?" She frowned. "Why didn't _I_ pack for the trip?"

"Perhaps those in protoform stasis do not get to bring their own cargo," said Dinobot. "A way to start a new life on a new world."

"Poetic, except it doesn't happen like that. I asked when I first arrived, hoping to find some clue as to why I was here. I ... well, you'll think it's silly," said Airazor. "I used to fly space patrols - mostly just being a mobile signal relay, sometimes chasing pirates away from our traders, usually a whole lot of nothing. Every time I docked somewhere for refuelling or maintenance or whatever, I'd pick up a souvenir. Just cheap little things as a way of remembering where I'd been. I'm sure I'd have brought those with me, but I checked the crate that the manifest said went with my pod and it was just some generic spare parts." She shrugged. "But I don't remember signing up for the mission either. Maybe I changed."

"The crate may have been mislabelled."

She shook her head. "We checked Tigatron's, too. Same thing."

"Hm." Dinobot had opened the boxes while they were talking. "Nothing but entertainment datadiscs."

"I guess some people just pack light." Airazor reached past him and took the rifle out of the hole. "I'll take Crossbolt's things to Optimus. Don't worry about the wall. I'll fix it later."

* * *

"What are _you_ doing in here?" Dinobot snarled.

"Why do I keep findin' Preds in here?" Rattrap demanded, swinging off the crate he'd been perching on to stomp over to Dinobot. "I already had to chase Terrorsaur outta here."

"Idiot vermin! Megatron wants to know what happened as much as we do - Terrorsaur was sent to spy on me, not interfere in my work. He wouldn't have caused a scene in the command centre if you'd minded your own business!"

"So is that why you're bringin' another in?" asked Rattrap, jabbing a finger at Scorponok, who had followed Dinobot. "Pred content of the cargo bay gettin' low?"

Scorponok gave the offending finger a look that said, _I no longer have claws but I know where the shears are kept._ Dinobot smacked Rattrap's hand aside. "Scorponok found the body, therefore I need to talk to Scorponok. Leave or I will remove you."

Muttering threats, Rattrap left. When the door slid closed, Scorponok snorted quietly. "So they don't treat you any better even when you wear their symbol."

Dinobot kept his back turned - these soft faces were too open and his former comrade would read him too easily. "He is ... on edge."

"You don't have to cover for them, Dinobot."

"There is nothing to cover for," Dinobot growled. "In time you will realise that _these_ Maximals are not our enemies."

"Yeah, and if _you_ live long enough you'll realise they're all the same. It doesn't matter what you do here. If we get back to Cybertron you'll just be another Predacon outlaw."

"Better a clean execution at the hands of the Maximals."

Scorponok understood and said nothing. Dinobot briefly shut his eyes. _Oh, yes, Megatron may have friends in high places ... but I have enemies in higher. No matter the choices I make, all paths before me lead to destruction!_

_But this is not the time to think of that._ Dinobot set his mind to the matter at hand and turned to Scorponok. "Why were you tearing up this bit of floor specifically?"

Scorponok shrugged. "The room with the pump is below here. I have to run a pipe to Megatron's quarters. Running it up to this level and across is easier than running it along the lower level and up."

"Did the deck plates seem loose?"

"Who could tell? They're too heavy now," said the technician, making a face.

"Did you see anything else? Touch anything else?"

"I burned that hole in the dead bot's finger to see if it'd react. I touched its shoulder. I called Megatron, the little cat showed up, then Optimus was shouting." Scorponok shot a contemptuous glance down the hole. "No Predacon did it, anyway. We don't hide bodies." He left.

Dinobot found a flashlight and crouched down by the hole in the deck plates. The technician had touched on the aspect of the act that most confused Dinobot. _When a Predacon kills, he wants others to know about it. He _must_ tell, he _must_ let everyone know that he was better than his enemy or else there's no point. Is it that the body wasn't supposed to be discovered immediately? Was Crossbolt supposed to simply vanish? Is there someone back on Cybertron gloating that no one will ever find the body? Is it merely that the killer couldn't sneak a dead body off the ship?_

The light hit a patch of the floor of the crawlspace wrong and Dinobot found himself looking at a scuff mark. _So what? The body was tied in place but not absolutely secure. The ship has been thrown around enough that ... No, these extend beyond the range of movement. There's a trail._

He swung down into the hole. In his robot body, Dinobot would have never been able to navigate the crawlspace. Now, despite the pipes and cables, it wasn't even a tight fit.

A mouse ran over his hand. He grabbed at it but it scurried away into the darkness.

Dinobot followed the drag marks for several metres. Then there was a curved, sloping wall in front of him and before Dinobot could think what that meant, a force net materialised around him like a cage. _"Intruder alert. Identify yourself."_

"Sentinel, this is Dinobot - stand down!" Lacking energy signatures, unable to identify them individually, Rhinox had reprogrammed Sentinel to detect organic beings over forty kilograms and identify by voices. The obvious flaw in the system would be exposed as soon as a Predacon built a voice changer but it was what they had for now.

_Why did Sentinel activate now? I've been down here for several cycles,_ thought Dinobot, annoyed as he continued to follow the trail along the foot of the dome of the stasis hold, then realised, _Of course. The stasis hold. It's good to know my comrades have enough sense to realise that a door isn't the only way a room may be entered._

_But this is ... inefficient. Foolish. Why expend the extra effort to move the body? I'm still under the cargo bay._

The trail ended. Then Dinobot looked up at a thick pipe banded by scuff marks and realised his mistake. "Crossbolt wasn't in the _floor_ of the cargo bay," he said to himself, startled into speech. "He was in the _ceiling_ of the stasis hold."

* * *

Terrorsaur debated the merits of leaving the shelter of the _Axalon_. On one hand, wide open sky. On the other, pouring rain. He was feeling better though, even with the front end of the _Axalon_ looming over him. He was leaned against one of the ship's landing legs; good, solid metal at his back but also unusual - there were no wings or beast head to mind.

He found he liked the look of the rain when the wind was still, like a beaded curtain hanging off the edge of the ship. The tidy cut-off pleased him. When the wind blew the rain just looked messy. _Didn't someone do art with fountains once? I'm sure I read about that somewhere. I know no one was doing it when I was in Betacron._

The sound was ... well, it was noise. Terrorsaur had no appreciation for the audile arts. The rain and the waterfall under the _Axalon_ just sounded like a whole lot of wet.

There was another sound behind him - a clatter of stone on stone - and he looked back over his shoulder. Waspinator was sitting near the edge of the chasm, occasionally tossing rocks down it. She hadn't so much as looked at him since Dinobot kicked them outside, let alone spoken to him. She kept herself curled up most of the time, shivering. Terrorsaur thought the rain made the air pleasantly cool, Waspinator apparently found it chilly.

_One of us has to call a truce,_ thought Terrorsaur with a sigh. _I suppose it's up to me to be the mature one, even though she started it._ "Waspinator ..."

Another rock was sacrificed to the chasm. "Oh, is terror-bot talking to Waspinator now? Waspinator thought terror-bot didn't want to hear Waspinator talk."

"I just don't want to hear you talk about crocodiles. Come on."

"No. Terror-bot yelled at Waspinator."

_Stubborn bug._ "I can make it up to you."

"Ha!"

"I can. I've seen you watching me when you think I'm not looking," said Terrorsaur, inspecting his nails. "I know what you want. Don't deny it."

The scout got to her feet and looked back at him, startled. "Waspinator never denied it!"

He closed the distance between them until they were close enough to touch. "I'm only letting you do this because I think it might feel good but ... you _know_ this is weird, right?"

Waspinator set her jaw. "Waspinator doesn't care."

"All right." Terrorsaur reached back, removed the band that tied his hair, and shook out the long red strands. Then he turned away from Waspinator and sat on the ground. "Go ahead. Don't make me regret this."

Behind him, Waspinator squealed with delight, then her fingers were combing and twisting at his hair. It was shiny and brightly coloured and Terrorsaur thought it was one of his better features in this body but he didn't find long hair as endlessly fascinating as Waspinator did. She'd been wanting to play with his since the first day.

* * *

Quickstrike didn't like moving more than was absolutely necessary but he obediently followed Tarantulas when ordered to come up to the xenobiology lab. For one thing, there was a possible cure to his condition. For another, he found it hard to argue when Tarantulas and Tarantulas' cleavage asked him to do things.

Silverbolt was already there, trying to look alert and managing not to slump in his chair too badly. Rhinox was by the table nearest the door, fiddling with a scanner and some techie thing that looked like a dart gun. Tarantulas went and perched on the other table, leaning forward with her ankles crossed primly, or it would have been prim on anyone but Tarantulas. The woman was an innuendo in a purple jumpsuit.

Quickstrike collapsed into the second chair. "Well, what've you got for us, big guy?"

"You're infected with amoebas that are attacking your intestinal lining," said Rhinox. "If left unchecked they could spread to the rest of your body. We're going to try to counteract them with amoebicidal nanites. With the parasites removed, your bodies should just heal on their own."

Quickstrike blinked at him. "What?"

"Tiny bugs are eating your insides," Tarantulas translated. "We're going to stick itty-bitty drones in you to kill them."

"Ah," said Silverbolt. "Er ... how?"

"They'll be injected into your bloodstream. From there it should take a few minutes for the nanites to locate the infection," said Rhinox. "I'll be monitoring them. If there's any trouble with the nanites, I'll deactivate them."

Tarantulas beamed and rubbed her hands together. "Who gets to go first?"

"Shoot, I will," said Quickstrike immediately. He was fed up with being sick and willing to do anything to end it. That and there was no way he was going to look like a coward in front of Tarantulas.

"Pull up your sleeve a bit," Rhinox ordered. When that was done, Rhinox pressed the tip of the dart gun to a vein in Quickstrike's forearm and pulled the trigger. It stung like a nasty insect bite and a few drops of blood leaked out but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

After several minutes, Rhinox glanced up from his scanner. "The nanites look to be in the right area. How do you feel?"

"Just as lousy as I've been all day," Quickstrike griped. "Your metal bugs ain't - nngh!" He doubled over as the pain hit, twisting up and burning his insides. There was shouting above him and hands helping him to the floor but they were somehow unreal. Nothing existed but the pain. He curled around it tightly.

He didn't know how long the agony lasted, but it vanished as suddenly as it struck, leaving him a bit dazed. Quickstrike became aware that he was leaning against something soft and warm and holding something tightly. He uncurled slightly. Tarantulas. She must have been the one to help him down, and he'd just ended up in her lap and clung to her arm without thinking. He tilted his head to rest against Tarantulas' ample bosom and peered at her out of the corner of his eye. "How long've I been here?"

The Predacon chuckled. "About twenty cycles."

"I miss all the good stuff."

Tarantulas gave him a shove. "Teheheh - off, you. Your facial fur is scratchy and you badly need to bathe."

Quickstrike grudgingly disentangled himself from the Predacon but it felt more like a 'not now' than a 'never', so that was all right. _And,_ he thought, rubbing at his short beard, _I can admit she's right on both counts._ He stood and helped Tarantulas back to her feet.

Rhinox waved a scanner at him. "How do you feel?"

Quickstrike ran a hand back through his hair. "Better," he said, surprised. He'd only been alive for seven days and the last four had been awful. "Not _great_ but better. Real hungry, though. Was it supposed to hurt like that?"

"The nanites were only attacking the amoebas. They caused you no damage," said Tarantulas. "Rhinox wanted to stop when it hit you. I thought it plain that it just meant the experiment was working."

"The nanites have disintegrated," Rhinox informed him. "In theory you shouldn't suffer any ill effects from them. You can go, but if you feel that _anything_ is wrong, tell me _immediately_."

"All right, your turn," Tarantulas told Silverbolt.

His fellow neophyte looked awful and it was just going to get worse for him. Quickstrike smirked. "I think I'm gonna stick around to watch 'Bolt recover. Moral support, like."

* * *

Tigatron and Airazor looked up from the weather map on the navigation screen when Dinobot entered the control room. "How does it go?" asked Tigatron. Apparently her clothes were still drying. Why she didn't fabricate a second set was beyond him. She was seated at the station with Airazor leaning over her shoulder.

"Answers are unlikely and justice unlikelier," said Dinobot, taking a seat at the tactical console. He typed in a few codes to access the security grid.

Knowing what he was looking for now, Dinobot had checked the cables that had secured the body down. They were new, as expected on a new ship being loaded, but with a bit of wear along one side. Looped around a strong pipe, the cable was a pulley - Crossbolt had been killed in the stasis hold and hidden in the ceiling. Then the body was moved so that its residual energy signature wouldn't set off the alarms around the stasis hold and tied down so as not to activate the motion sensors if the ship pitched. He cursed himself for not thinking of it before - the murder occurred when the _Axalon_ was being loaded. The cargo bay would have been full of people. Of course Crossbolt wasn't killed there. _Someone with training in this task would have thought of that immediately. I've been doing everything in the wrong order._

Beyond the motion and energy sensors, there were four cameras in the stasis hold, hidden in the vents. Dinobot had checked all the vents out of thoroughness and four cameras seemed a bit excessive, even to him. Two would have been adequate, three was overdoing it. Three were positioned equidistant around the perimeter to show as much of the room as possible. The fourth simply pointed uselessly at one of the stasis pod drop chutes. Not that he minded - more cameras meant he had more chances to see Crossbolt's murderer. Dinobot chose to review the footage from the camera that most directly faced the door. Perhaps the assassin was foolish enough to walk right in.

There was the stasis hold, empty. The protoforms had not yet been loaded - in fact, they were the last things to be loaded onto the ship. After a while, there was Crossbolt, alive, alone, carrying a crate. He walked towards the camera at an angle, set the crate on the floor, opened a hatch in the wall, then started taking small jars full of light out of the crate and stacking them in the cabinet. _Embers,_ Dinobot realised. Not sparks, just pieces of them that could be combined into sparks. The _Axalon's_ spark surgeon could use them to give life to a blank protoform.

_We have a blank protoform,_ Dinobot thought, but forgot the idea entirely when the monitor flickered. The timestamp jumped forward fifteen minutes and the stasis hold was empty.

Dinobot checked the room's other cameras and found the same thing, almost. The three cameras that faced the room all suffered the same glitch. _I should have known. Sentinel challenged me when I got too close to the stasis hold,_ Dinobot thought. _Anyone who could bypass the security system could bypass the cameras, especially the pre-Sentinel system. There will be no record._

_And where is the feed from the fourth camera?_ All it faced was the floor but his inability to access the footage bothered him. _It's an active camera. It should be part of the grid._

He activated the comm circuit to the xenobiology lab. "Dinobot to Rhinox."

After a moment, the speaker activated. _"Rhinox here. What do you need, Dinobot?"_ Somewhere behind Rhinox, Quickstrike was laughing.

"I cannot access one of the security cameras in the stasis hold. The one in the portside vent." When the only answer was silence, Dinobot spoke again: "It _is_ one of ours?" If it was Predacon technology, he should have recognised it.

_"_I_ never put a spycam in the stasis hold!"_ huffed Tarantulas' voice.

_"Yes, it's ours,"_ said Rhinox slowly, before Dinobot could question the voices in the background. _"I remember that one - one of the techs read the blueprints wrong and installed it before anyone noticed the error."_

"It's wired into _something_. I need to access its records from four megacycles before the Axalon's scheduled launch." It probably suffered the same glitch as the others - if it worked at all - but Dinobot had to see.

_"Could you get Rattrap to help you? I'm in the middle of something."_

The connection cut. Dinobot growled at the console.

"You know he's been focused on trying to find a way to repair Quickstrike and Silverbolt," said Tigatron.

"Could you find the system the camera is wired into?"

"Before the change, I may have spent a total of two days inside the _Axalon_. Perhaps a megacycle of that was spent outside the CR chamber," Tigatron reminded him. "I'm still learning my way around. Possibly, with time and some idea of where to look, I could find it."

Airazor held up her hands. "I leave the technical stuff to the techs."

_I do not wish to bother Optimus, Cheetor is probably still with him ... no choice but the rat._ Dinobot activated the comm system again, putting it on the intercom to the whole ship: "_Vermin!_ Get up to the command centre _immediately_!" Airazor chuckled and Tigatron shook her head, then they got back to their atmospheric scans.

After a few minutes, Rattrap appeared, wearing a tool belt and brandishing a ratchet. "This had better be good, chopperface."

Dinobot walked over, plucked the tool out of Rattrap's hand, and stepped around him to prod him in the back with it, pushing him towards the console. "You weren't my first choice, rat without a tail, but you'll do."

"Seriously, that's the best you got?" asked Rattrap, looking back over his shoulder. "You finally ran out of insults so now you're just stating the obvious?"

"I was quoting."

"Quote something good, then. I ain't doin' all the work here, you overgrown, stinky iguana." Rattrap paused. "Er ... why _did_ you call me up here?"

"The camera on the port side of the stasis hold cannot be accessed through the main grid. Rhinox said you could access it."

Rattrap spun and caught the ratchet, though he couldn't break Dinobot's grip. "What? Rhinox said that?"

"Yes."

Rattrap stopped pulling at the ratchet but didn't let go. "What timeframe?" he asked dubiously. Dinobot told him and Rattrap nodded, releasing the tool to go to the console. "All right. Should be doable."

The Maximal's hands flashed over the keyboard, then the footage appeared on the screen. "There. Happy?"

"Hnn." Unlike the other cameras, this one didn't glitch. Unfortunately it was still useless - it pointed in the wrong direction and the walls and floor of the empty hold were too rough for reflections. There was a nearly imperceptible spike in the light levels four minutes in, possibly the flash of a laser. That was all.

"Enough," said Dinobot, and Rattrap shut off the video. _So I know when and where the murder occurred. Useful, but not the information I most want to know._

He handed Rattrap his ratchet back, then pushed him out of the way to check the cameras in the cargo bay on the off-chance that the assassin had gone straight down. He came up empty and expected it - the assassin knew how to cover his tracks. No one would notice someone climbing into a vent on a ship that was being finished and loaded.

"I guess that's it then," said Rattrap.

The warrior glanced back, surprised that Rattrap was still there. "Not quite. There is more security footage I need to check. After that, I have one more idea."

* * *

It was easy to tell when Silverbolt had recovered. He uncurled, took three steps, and hoisted Quickstrike up by the front of his shirt. "Why did you insist on staying?"

"Misery loves company," said Quickstrike, trying to twist away. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish, 'Bolt."

"I thought the matter _was_ finished!"

Rhinox sighed, caught Quickstrike under his arms, and took him from Silverbolt. "We just repaired you. Don't even think about damaging each other."

Grumbling and shooting dark looks at each other, the neophytes left. Tarantulas giggled. "Ah, Maximal camaraderie! I'm going to see how Blackarachnia's doing." With that, the Predacon left as well.

Rhinox contacted Tigatron to tell her the results of the experiment, spent a few minutes tidying up the xenobiology lab, then went up to Optimus' quarters and pressed the door chime. "Optimus? It's Rhinox."

Cheetor's voice answered quietly: "Come in."

He found Optimus lying on his side, head pillowed on Cheetor's thigh. Cheetor was sitting up, petting Optimus' hair and looking worried. The pilot shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do. He ... he does this for me sometimes when I'm upset."

"I'll look after him for a while," said Rhinox. "Go on."

Cheetor carefully eased Optimus onto the foam padding and retreated. "I wasn't asleep," said Optimus when the door closed.

"I can give you some good news at least," said Rhinox as Optimus sat up and rubbed at his eyes. The fact that his berth was scaled for a larger being only added to the effect of making the Maximal leader look small and miserable. "Tarantulas managed to pinpoint what was wrong with Quickstrike and Silverbolt. It was an amoebic infection. We used nanites to clean them out. They're not back to one hundred percent but they're doing better than they were. I don't think the nanites will hurt them in the long term but I'd rather not use them again just in case there are cumulative effects. I'll know more in a day or two."

"Good," said Optimus. Rhinox sat down beside him and waited. Then, after several minutes: "Has Dinobot ..."

Rhinox shook his head. "He's found that the ... attack ... happened in the stasis hold, not the cargo bay, about four megacycles before the scheduled launch. He also found the fourth camera. He thinks it was just installed incorrectly."

Optimus slumped forward and ran his hands through his hair. "I hate lying to them."

"So do I but it would just worry them if they knew," said Rhinox, resting a hand on Optimus' back. "Until we know there's a threat ..."

"And we don't want to give the Predacons any more leverage than they already have," Optimus finished. "I still hate it."

Rhinox considered telling Optimus what Dinobot had said - that the warship that was chasing the Predacons wasn't damaged, that they lied so that the _Axalon_ would pursue the Predacons. _I will, but not right now. Optimus has enough to think about._

* * *

"I don't see why everyone refuses to go out in the rain," said Tigatron with only a little accusation. "We're completely waterproof now."

"What good's waterproofing in these bodies?" asked Airazor, who had declined to go for a walk that morning. "Our insides are wet through."

There was nothing to look at outside and the Predacons were all holed up various places on the _Axalon_ doing whatever it was Predacons did in their spare time. Monitor duty was feeling distinctly pointless and no one needed them for anything so Airazor and Tigatron moved two chairs to the central workstation and passed the time chatting. At least the chairs were padded now.

Tigatron shook her head. "Inferno's the worst. It baffles me how someone who showers twice a day can hate the rain so much."

Cheetor padded in, subdued and unhappy. "Hey, Airazor. Hey, big cat. I'll take over from here if you want."

"You hate monitor duty," said Airazor.

Cheetor shrugged. "Yeah but I gotta be _doing_ something. I can't do anything to help Optimus but I can at least do my job, you know?"

"How is he?" asked Tigatron.

"Rhinox is with him now. He's just ... sad. He doesn't even want to talk or anything. Optimus already kind of blames himself for _this_," - Cheetor tugged at his shirt - "and there's Predacons all over and ..."

_And now he finds out that a friend of his was murdered a year and a half ago and was hidden on the _Axalon_ the whole time,_ thought Airazor, suppressing a shudder. She got up and patted Cheetor on the shoulder. "Do _you_ want to talk?"

The pilot shook his head. "Nah, I'm ... well, not _fine_, I just want to work for a bit and feel useful."

Airazor gave him a quick hug - sometimes Cheetor complained when he was fussed over by the others but he always accepted it from her or Tigatron. "You want company?"

"No. Not right now. Sorry."

"If we just go below the _Axalon_ we'll be available if you need us," said Tigatron, though it was a question directed at Airazor.

Airazor smiled slightly. "All right, but I'm not going out in the rain."

"As you wish," said Tigatron with a half-bow, not quite sarcasm, then straightened up and paused. "Actually, if you'll wait a moment ..." Tigatron vanished back into the ship. Cheetor sat down at a workstation and tapped a few keys.

"We've been running weather simulations all afternoon," said Airazor. "We've got rain for at least four more days."

The pilot sighed. "Is there _any_ good news today?"

"Well, Rhinox called up a little while ago and said the neophytes were back on their feet, so there's more people around to be bored at."

Tigatron arrived a few minutes later with her commlink and a small box. "What is it?" asked Airazor.

The tracker chuckled quietly. "Not crocodile."

They took the lift down, stepped out, and were startled by a voice: "Oh, what now?"

The Maximals turned towards the chasm. "You're still out here?" asked Tigatron.

"Obviously," said Terrorsaur. He was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up, feet crossed at the ankles, arms loosely crossed over his knees. Waspinator was kneeling behind him, playing with his hair. She didn't even look up. "What do _you_ want?"

Airazor had been feeling a little sorry for the air warrior earlier when Waspinator was teasing him, but Terrorsaur was back to his usual abrasive self, reminding Airazor that she couldn't stand him. "We want to be out here. Your little time-out's got to be over by now."

"We were kicked out and now you're kicking us back _in_?" Terrorsaur demanded.

"The lift for the cargo bay is large," said Tigatron before Airazor could get drawn into an argument, with far more reasonableness than the scout thought the Predacon deserved. "It's the closest you can get to being outside while still being inside."

Terrorsaur got to his feet, causing Waspinator to make an annoyed sound that wasn't quite a buzz. "Whatever. Come on, Waspinator."

The lift disappeared back into the _Axalon_. Tigatron frowned. "Did Terrorsaur's hair seem a bit ... odd?"

Terrorsaur with his hair down wasn't particularly unusual but half of it had been twisted into thin braids. Airazor chuckled. "Wasps happen, I guess. They must be on speaking terms again."

"Oh?"

"You were out today so you missed it," said Airazor, gratefully latching on to the light topic. "Waspinator wasn't just bragging about how she saved Terrorsaur from that crocodile, she was making up little songs about it. Speaking of which, pass me some of that not-crocodile."

They went to sit near the edge of the chasm and Tigatron opened the small container. "I brought back a couple other kinds but I know you like these."

Tucked into the box were four marula fruit. Airazor laughed. "You went out in the rain just to pick fruit?"

"I wanted to go for a walk anyway. This gave me a destination." The tracker smiled. "Even I am getting tired of crocodile."

Airazor took one gratefully and bit into it. "Right," she said after she swallowed. "Waspinator singing."

Tigatron selected a fruit for herself and sighed dramatically. "I don't think I want to know."

"So she was doing this one where she'd take the letters of her name and come up with adjectives that started with that letter. Wonderful, amazing, stupendous, perfect ..." Airazor continued, knowing Tigatron's protest was a token one. "_'Waspinator is wonderful, as everyone knows! She kept big lizard from biting terror-bot's toes! ...'_ I can't do the voice but you get the idea."

"Unfortunately," Tigatron smiled.

Airazor grinned. "Waspinator gets so caught up in coming up with verses that she forgets how to spell her name. So she asks Terrorsaur for help."

"And he's even more fed up with her bragging than we are."

"Mmhm. He got her to spell out WASPY IS A BUZZHEAD WHO NEVER SHUTS UP before she realised she'd been tricked."


	15. This Most Bloody Piece Of Work: Part 4

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
This Most Bloody Piece Of Work - part four **

"Why would a Maximal hide a body?" asked Dinobot. He'd gone back to the cargo bay and after a quick search found a small personal computer and a cable.

Rattrap had decided to follow him. "What kinda question is that?"

"It is the one that I asked you."

The Maximal frowned. "Obvious, isn't it? The killer didn't want people to know he'd killed."

Dinobot set the small computer on the makeshift table near Crossbolt's head and attached the cable to it. "I _know_ that, vermin," he growled in annoyance. "Why would he not want it known?"

"So that he wouldn't be caught and punished. Why else?" asked Rattrap. "Or are you allowed to just go around offin' people you don't like in Pred Land? ... What? What's that look supposed to mean? Don't tell me I offended your delicate Predacon sensibilities!"

Dinobot schooled his expression and shook his head. "I can understand how it can sometimes be ... prudent for the assassin to remain anonymous but to hide the deed entirely is cowardly."

"I'll remember to paint 'Rattrap Did It' across your shell when I ... You again?" The latter was directed at Terrorsaur who had just walked in with Waspinator in tow. His hair was down and strangely ropey and she had her long coat again. Dinobot arched an eyebrow when the fliers came in but didn't say anything. The question was plain: _Who let you back in here?_

"Tigatron and Airazor kicked us back in, so we're going to take over the cargo lift," said Terrorsaur with as much defiance as he could for someone admitting he'd been pushed around, then narrowed his eyes at Rattrap. "If that's _allowed_."

Dinobot waved the Predacons past and they vanished down the large elevator. "You gotta stop lettin' the Preds climb all over the evidence," said Rattrap.

"They're not."

The temperature dropped a few degrees as a breeze from the open shaft found its way up into the cargo bay. Rattrap huddled into himself, glared briefly at the open lift, then made a noise that dismissed both Predacons and Dinobot's defence of them. "You actually find anything in all your stompin' around?"

"Rhinox is not the assassin."

Rattrap rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're real good at this, ain'tcha?"

"He would have been too bulky to fit in the crawlspace."

"Brilliant. Wait, what're you doing?" Rattrap asked when Dinobot carefully removed the front panel of Crossbolt's helm.

Dinobot held up the loose end of the cable. "The shot went through Crossbolt's processor but not his memory module. Perhaps he saw his killer."

"Oh, yeah, bronto-brain with the logic," said Rattrap, pushing a crate beside where Dinobot was standing. "You might have noticed that he was shot in the _back_ of the head."

"He may have seen the assassin prior to the shot, or perhaps in a reflection."

Rattrap climbed up on his crate to look over the warrior's shoulder. "You're not exactly the techiest 'bot. You'll probably erase his memories by accident."

"Why do you think I waited until I had pursued all other leads before attempting this?" asked Dinobot, attaching the cable to the memory module.

"Wait, you don't know what you're -"

Dinobot was never able to get the order straight in his mind afterward. He activated the link, then Rattrap tackled him from the side, there was an explosion, there was burning pain, and there was a strangely muffled feeling that he hadn't experienced since the initial change.

Dinobot opened his eyes and found himself face-down on the floor. The computer was in front of him, screen cracked and leaking smoke. _Did the computer explode?_ he wondered hazily, trying to pull himself back to full awareness. _Augh, this _hurts_ ..._ Agony burned down his right arm and leg. It was almost enough to eclipse the pain in his ears.

The alarm klaxons were flashing but the sound was wrong, just one high frequency monotone that drowned out everything else. There was a weight on his back that moved weakly. Dinobot pushed himself up on his hands, dislodging it. Rattrap flopped onto his back like he was made of rubber and his face twisted as if he cried out, but he made no sound. Dinobot knelt by the Maximal's side. "Rattrap?" _His injuries are not so severe ..._ His arms and legs were streaked and patched with blood - a dozen pieces of shrapnel were visible in his bare arms and the loose fabric of his trousers was tattered and bloody. _Surface wounds, limb wounds, he's been through worse and laughed._

Then Dinobot saw the blood seeping out from underneath the Maximal's shoulder and pulled him to a seated position. Rattrap didn't struggle, just slumped forward against the warrior's arm. Dinobot couldn't see the extent of the wounds on Rattrap's back. There was too much shredded fabric and blood in the way.

He took Rattrap's chin and shook his head a bit to get his attention. At least Rattrap reacted, opening his eyes part way and saying something, or trying to. "Conserve your energy," Dinobot ordered. _What do I do? I need to do _something_!_

_Remove the shrapnel._ In the haze of panic and pain it seemed sensible. Dinobot grabbed the biggest piece, one in Rattrap's left wrist, then suddenly jerked back. _Hot! Blast it, these bodies have such poor temperature resistance ..._

Then he realised his mistake was worse than just singed fingers. He had torn the metal out of Rattrap's wrist, making the wound larger. No longer just seeping, blood flowed steadily from the Maximal. Uncertain what else to do, Dinobot clamped his hand around the wound, trying to stop the leak. _Not like this! I've said that I would kill you someday, vermin, but not like this, not in some idiot _accident_ ..._

_... Not after you just saved my life._

Movement and a flash of green in the pulsing red of alarm lights and blood caught his attention, and Dinobot looked up at two of his former comrades. _Terrorsaur and Waspinator were in the cargo lift. They came when they heard the explosion - others must have as well!_ Terrorsaur was talking but Dinobot couldn't hear him - that was when it sank in that his audios were damaged. The siren scream was in his head.

_Not that Terrorsaur ever says anything important._ "Get down here and hold this wound closed," Dinobot ordered. He couldn't hear his own voice but he knew he spoke because the fliers reacted. Terrorsaur baulked and Waspinator made a face and said something likely along the lines of 'we're not helping any Maximal.' "_Now_, Terrorsaur!"

Dinobot knew he must have roared because it hurt his throat and the fliers looked terrified. Waspinator gave Terrorsaur a little push and the air warrior finally knelt, taking a few seconds to gingerly probe the edges of the wound with his long fingers before wrapping them around Rattrap's wrist. _That's slowed the leak, at least. Now I need to seal it off,_ Dinobot thought, glancing back at the makeshift table. _I have a welder up ... no, that would just cause _more_ damage. Slag!_

Waspinator said something and bolted. Terrorsaur called after her but didn't seem angry, which implied the scout was off to get help rather than simply running away.

The door opened just as she reached it. Waspinator ran right into Inferno, who threw the scout aside, knocking her to the floor. This didn't stop Waspinator from gesturing wildly, trying to explain to Megatron what happened. Megatron knew it was faster to look for himself than to try to decipher Waspinator's report and walked right past her, Inferno in tow.

Megatron made it four steps. Rhinox arrived and shoved the Predacon commander back at Inferno. Inferno's legs got tangled with Waspinator's, who was still sitting on the floor, and she went down in a pile of outrage. Megatron regained his footing and readied himself to attack. Rhinox paid him no attention. The engineer was focused on Terrorsaur, anger radiating off him in a tangible wave. Terrorsaur cringed and looked ready to bolt, about to decide he was more afraid of Rhinox than Dinobot.

"The Predacons didn't do this!" Dinobot shouted. "There was an explosion!"

The anger dissipated and Rhinox dropped to his knees beside Rattrap, patting at his face and talking. Rattrap barely responded, a flutter of the lids that didn't quite open, mouth not moving enough for speech. Rhinox tried to speak to Dinobot, indicated his wounds, but Dinobot shook his head. "Rattrap pushed me out of the way and took more of the blast. My damages are not important." Rattrap's eyes opened suddenly and his free hand caught and twisted in the fabric of Rhinox's shirt, which worried Dinobot more than the blood - he had never seen the Maximal hurt badly enough to make such a _help me, don't leave me_ gesture before.

Rhinox reacted to something Dinobot couldn't see, glancing back over his shoulder, face anguished, words painful. Hesitation, more words, and he looked back down, apology in every line of him, and gently took Rattrap's hand from his shirt. The meaning was plain this time: _I'm sorry. I have to leave but I'll come back soon. I promise._

Rhinox reluctantly left, immediately replaced by Optimus, who was shouting orders. Some of those were given to Dinobot, who couldn't understand. Now a hand on his shoulder, a searching look, a question? Dinobot growled. "I'm _fine_." Optimus' attention shifted to Terrorsaur. More words, no hesitation in him now - Terrorsaur helped Optimus carry Rattrap out. Rattrap was small enough that anyone could have carried him easily but the need to keep pressure on his wrist made it awkward.

With his view no longer blocked by Rhinox or Optimus, Dinobot could see that everyone else had arrived, drawn by the explosion. In the absence of the senior Maximals, Tigatron seemed to be the one giving orders. At her gesture, Cheetor bolted. The Predacons weren't paying her any attention. Most were in a huddle near the door, talking and glancing back at him, except Waspinator who was clinging to Silverbolt's arm and Tarantulas who was missing entirely. The alarm lights shut off.

Still kneeling, Dinobot glanced down at himself. He was soaked with blood. Most of it was Rattrap's. Ignoring the pain of his wounds, Dinobot stood up.

He had been fine when he was kneeling but it was hard to keep on his feet. It felt like the deck tilted below him though he knew it hadn't. Ignoring the warnings of his stabilisation system, Dinobot took a step forward, trying to use sight alone to keep himself balanced. It worked for three steps, then the _Axalon_ slid out sideways from under him.

Two sets of hands caught him before he fell - Megatron and Tigatron. They argued past him - Megatron calm, Tigatron suspicious. Dinobot snarled and cut them short. "I am going to the xenobiology lab. Tigatron, keep order." Tigatron nodded and turned away, returning her attention to the remaining Maximals.

Megatron shot a triumphant grin at the tracker's back, then hooked his arm under Dinobot's shoulders. Much as he hated to appear weak, Dinobot knew he couldn't walk on his own. Much as he didn't want help from Megatron, better him than the already stretched-thin Maximals. Putting his arm over his former commander's shoulders for balance, he growled, "Don't make too much of this," and felt the answering laugh.

By the time they reached the xenobiology lab, Optimus had already laid Rattrap out on one of the two tables, face-down, left arm extended above his head. Terrorsaur had vanished - Optimus was holding Rattrap's wrist. Blood seeped through his fingers, noticeable only because Dinobot was looking for it. Merely carrying Rattrap to the lab had left Optimus' arms and torso red. He was hunched forward, talking quickly, worry and reassurance - _We're going to repair you. You'll be fine. Stay with us._ Rattrap didn't react.

Rhinox appeared a moment later with Tarantulas. Tarantulas immediately went to check on Rattrap. She had no interest in his well-being but she liked blood.

Megatron led Dinobot to one of the chairs and helped him sit, mindful of his injuries. Dinobot automatically reached to pull a bit of metal out of his arm but stopped before he could complete the action. _No. It was my clumsiness that made Rattrap's injuries worse. If I attempt to treat myself, I may end up like him._

_Having metal in my body again shouldn't hurt so much!_ Every time he moved, the shrapnel cut his flesh.

He realised Optimus was trying to talk to him and shook his head. "I can't hear you," Dinobot admitted. "My audios were damaged. All I can hear is a high-frequency tone." Now that he had a minute to think, that was the muffled feeling he'd recognised from the initial change - a sudden lack of sensory input.

Optimus said something to him, paused for a moment, then spoke to Megatron instead. Megatron shrugged and returned a few minutes later with a datapad, which he handed to Dinobot. Optimus spoke, spoke again, and this time words appeared on the screen.

**Optimus Primal: I've programmed Sentinel to transcribe everything said in this room to this datapad.** But it picked up everyone in the room, so there was also:

**Tarantulas: Do you want all his blood to leak out?**

**Rhinox: No!**

**Tarantulas: Then leave the shrapnel in. It's plugging the leaks.**

And, Megatron, picking at the blood on his sleeve where it transferred from Dinobot: **Don't tell me I require new clothing again.**

**He saved my life.** Dinobot stared at the words for a moment before realising they were his.

**Optimus Primal: Options?**

**Rhinox: Protein polymer. It might bond to real flesh. I'll try it.**

**Tarantulas: Don't glue your fingers to him.**

**Megatron: I would say the wounds should be cleaned as well. Sealing in bits of metal and dirt couldn't be good for them, no.**

Rhinox left. Optimus looked back down at Rattrap. **We'll need to get his clothing off to reach his damages.** The Maximal leader started to take a step, then stopped, looking down at where his hand was clamped around Rattrap's wrist. **Tarantulas, there should be a pair of metal snips in the second locker over there.**

This was the Optimus that Dinobot knew - level-headed and in command. Tarantulas didn't even cast an asking glance at Megatron before moving to obey. Given a crisis, Optimus had snapped out of his weakness and depression. _He has some strength left. Good. May it last._

Tarantulas returned with the snips and carefully removed Rattrap's clothing to expose his damages. Simply tugging it off would snag on the shrapnel and make the wounds worse. There wasn't much metal in his back - the shrapnel had cut across without lodging in his flesh. His arms and legs were a different story. Most of the shrapnel was in his left limbs, a couple dozen small shards almost hidden in his flesh. The few pieces in his right were comparatively shallow ricochets. By the time Tarantulas finished removing Rattrap's clothing, she found two knives and a small laser pistol hidden on him. The gun was technically a truce violation and Optimus looked upset but Megatron laughed so hard he had a coughing fit.

Megatron gestured to Tarantulas, who handed him the snips. Dinobot glared at him. "No." Since he was mostly shielded by Rattrap, he had only been hit by a few ricochets in his right limbs. "I can wait."

His former commander gave him a wounded look that almost seemed sincere. **You don't trust me?**

"No."

Rhinox returned then, dropping an armload of equipment on the table near Rattrap's feet with what must have been an impressive crash. He turned with surprising speed and grabbed Tarantulas' upraised wrist.

**Rhinox: Don't do that.**

Tarantulas blinked at him. **Don't do what?**

**Rhinox: You were licking his blood off your fingers.** He squeezed a little tighter. **Don't do that.**

**Tarantulas: All right! All right!**

Megatron smirked at Dinobot, tapping the snips against his open palm. **Well now, it looks like everyone else is occupied. Shall I tend to your wounds or would you rather be stubborn?**

Dinobot growled but extended his leg. He expected trickery and didn't receive it - Megatron did nothing more than slit his trouser leg up to the thigh and carefully peel it back. Against his preference, Dinobot let Megatron do his repairs. He had steady hands, a knowledge of biology, and a knack for fiddly work so Dinobot could acknowledge the logic in letting him do it, but his former commander only performed acts of kindness if he thought he could get something out of them later.

Dinobot knew he should stay focused on Megatron to make sure he wasn't going to make things worse but he kept trying to see what was happening to Rattrap. He couldn't see much - the others blocked the view of the table. Purposeful movement of arms and shoulders, gestures with red-coated hands, but all that could be seen of Rattrap was his blood as it dripped to the floor. _'It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood.' Yet who would have thought the Maximal to have had so much blood in him?_

Megatron, already finished with the few shards in Dinobot's arm, kneeling now, removing shrapnel from his thigh with long-nosed pliers, tapped him on a bit of untorn flesh to get his attention, spoke, and pointed at the datapad. **Do you mark that?**

"How can I?" Dinobot snarled. "I can't hear!"

His former commander rolled his eyes and reached up to tap the scroll button on the datapad to show the last few minutes of conversation. Dinobot had been watching, not reading, so it was all new to him. Most was the clipped conversation of Optimus, Rhinox, and Tarantulas as they worked: **This section's clear. Hand me the sprayer. - Carefully, carefully. - Am I the only one who finds it weird that most of the shrapnel is in perfect little blue rectangles? - I don't want to think about that right now. - Hold the edges together so I can apply the polymer. - His skin shouldn't be this colour. - Bruised? He was cut, not hit.**

And, finally: **It will have blood, they say, blood will have blood. Yet who would have thought the Maximal to have had so much blood in him?**

**Megatron: Do you mark that?**

**Dinobot: How can I? I can't hear!**

**Megatron: I thought you were quoting to give yourself something to focus on. I was playing along.**

"Don't."

Megatron didn't reply, just gave a mild shrug and got back to work, bloody hands moving efficiently. Dinobot found himself automatically finishing the quote Megatron had started, taking care not to speak aloud: _'The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.'_

As if hearing his thought, Megatron startled - only in expression, too disciplined to let his hands slip - and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Dinobot looked over at the work table - there was more strain in the backs of the Maximals and their movements were more controlled ... _No, not the right word. It's the control of one who knows that if he doesn't hold on as tight as he can, he's going to collapse._ Dinobot checked the datapad to see what had caught Megatron's attention.

**Rhinox: Hold still! We're trying to help you!**

**Optimus: He can't hear you. And you can stop laughing!**

**Tarantulas: Oh, don't take it so personally. I laugh at everything.**

Nothing that would have made Megatron jump. "What happened?"

**Megatron: Nothing to concern yourself with.**

_Nothing to concern myself with? He saved my life!_ Dinobot thought and realised he'd shouted when his throat hurt and the others glanced back at him.

**Megatron: Hold still, idiot.** He finished patching the last wound just below Dinobot's knee, then stood, rinsed his hands off with the sprayer, and went over to see what the others were doing. After a moment, Megatron shook his head. **Move aside, Primal. I'm not used to feeling embarrassed for Maximals.**

**Optimus Primal: What? Megatron.**

**Megatron: Keep up this slipshod work and you'll kill the rat before you repair him. Move aside.**

Optimus looked back at Dinobot, not speaking but the question was there: _Can we trust him? Should I let him do this?_

Dinobot nodded, and Optimus stepped back to let Megatron work. _No, you can't trust him, but he has skills that you lack. You mean well, Optimus, but you are already under too much strain. Rhinox can fix any machine but his knowledge of organics is limited to plants. Tarantulas knows how organics are put together only because she takes them apart for fun. Megatron's knowledge of biology is more theoretical than practical but he does take pride in delicate work._

_'Here's the smell of the blood still ...'_ Drawn by the mess, one of the _Axalon's_ small cleaner drones darted under the table and started scrubbing industriously. When it bumped into Tarantulas' foot, she gave it a kick that sent it skidding across the room. **Ow! As soon as I'm done here, I'm putting steel toes in my shoes.**

**Optimus: Sentinel, shut off the drones.**

**Megatron: Do try to stay focused, Tarantulas.**

**Tarantulas: As if I want to be distracted. This is the most fun I've had since I was metal!**

Optimus' hand clamped down on Rhinox's shoulder before a tightening in the muscles could become action. Dinobot growled. _If I could stand, he would have had to restrain _me_. Optimus says, 'No.' I say, 'Not yet.' Tarantulas is useful for the moment ... and moments end._

_This situation is intolerable! Rattrap took the blast that was meant for me! He saved my life and I can do nothing! The only ones who _can_ do anything hate Maximals on principle if they didn't have reasons to hate the vermin personally!_ Dinobot glanced at the datapad and found no conversation, just orders. Megatron had smoothly taken over the operation. _I know your skill, Megatron. Fail and you will answer to me._

The two Maximals were doing little that Dinobot could see - cleaning wounds, handing tools, and trying to comfort Rattrap as well as they could. Most of the work was being done by the Predacons, more efficiently now that they were together and could pool their skills, _'their hands and faces were all badged with blood; so were their daggers, which unwiped we found upon their pillows. They stared, and were distracted; no man's life was to be trusted with them ...'_

Finally Optimus asked, **Is that all?**

Tarantulas picked up a scanner and fiddled with it, somehow able to still find the controls despite the blood smeared on it. **The scanner isn't detecting any metal in his body beyond the trace amounts that are supposed to be there.**

Megatron set about washing his hands. Rhinox touched the back of Rattrap's neck, one of the few undamaged places on him. **His skin feels wrong. He shouldn't be this cold. And his heartbeat is weak.**

**Tarantulas: Organics can't lose much blood before it becomes fatal. It's not like our fuel systems.**

**Rhinox: If we could set up something like a fuel transfer.**

Dinobot immediately got to his feet and would have fallen if he hadn't caught the table. "He risked his life to save mine! It's only right that I give up my blood for him!"

**Rhinox: You're missing enough of your own already!**

**Tarantulas: Blood can't be transferred like fuel. Not exactly.**

**Optimus Primal: What? Explain!**

Tarantulas shrugged. **There's different kinds of blood. Some are incompatible with others.**

**Rhinox: How do you know this?**

The scientist laughed. Sentinel didn't think it needed to transcribe it. **I've taken blood samples of everyone since the change. I had to dispose of them somehow.**

**Megatron: You mixed a drink.**

**Tarantulas: The blood went strange depending on which samples were combined. Further scans indicated what seemed to be six strains. I'm not sure. Quickstrike and Silverbolt are rather odd.**

**Optimus Primal: Who's Rattrap compatible with?** Dinobot couldn't hear his voice but his expression was enough. There was nothing Optimus could do now, the situation was entirely out of his control. When the day had started one of his crew was already dead, killed when his stasis pod exploded. This morning another had been found murdered. Now Rattrap was dying. Dinobot's fists clenched. _He saved my life._

Tarantulas chuckled again. **He has the most common type actually. It might be another trait tied in with our beast-modes, because all his compatibles used to be arthropods.**

Rhinox pushed past her and started typing at the computer, leaving bloody fingerprints on the console. Tarantulas reached past him and tapped a few keys. **My research.**

**Rattrap and I are similar,** said Rhinox after several too-long minutes.

**Tarantulas: Do you want to take the chance that you're similar enough?**

Rhinox dragged the back of his hand across his damp forehead and left a red smear. **I'm surprised you warned us at all.**

Tarantulas shrugged. **This procedure might be needed on a Predacon some day. The scientific solution is to try it on the rat first.**

Megatron, not quite hiding a smirk: **Yes, try it on the rat. Ask for volunteers to donate, Primal. See how far that gets you.**

Optimus, all vulnerability now, not in any shape to stand up to Megatron: **But.**

Tarantulas drifted over to stand a bit behind Megatron, putting herself out of Maximal reach. Megatron continued: **The only answer you'll hear is a resounding and insulted no. You Maximals have taken everything else from we Predacons and now you ask the fuel from our lines?**

It wasn't a fair complaint - the crew of the _Axalon_ had done nothing to the Predacon faction but be built Maximals - but any thought Dinobot had of threatening and ordering one of the Predacons to donate his blood died with those words. Dinobot fought against Megatron, not against the Predacons as a species, and making that kind of demand was too fundamental a betrayal. He could stand them passing in the hall and hissing 'traitor' under their breath; he couldn't take wounded glances and, 'you used to understand.'

The Predacon commander was still talking: **And for the rat? The single most troublesome member of your crew? What has he ever done to make us desire his continued existence?**

Rhinox was by the table, holding Rattrap as best he could despite the angle, as if physical contact could keep his spark in his body. He looked about to speak but changed his mind and said nothing. Dinobot couldn't decide if it was a wise move or a foolish one. _Ask, beg, or order in this and Megatron will be so offended that it will end your precious truce. On the other hand, if the truce dissolves, you may take what you need by force ..._

**But I suppose I've already put this much effort into him.** Megatron turned suddenly and strode to the door but it was only to tap the intercom. **Inferno, report to the xenobiology lab immediately.**

* * *

Rhinox hurried back to the xenobiology lab. "Has he regained consciousness yet?" he asked, then felt bad for asking.

"We would have told you if he had," said Optimus without insult. Then, quieter, "Find anything?"

"No." He wasn't meant to. Optimus didn't ask any more questions, knowing that Rhinox needed a few minutes to check on his friend.

Rhinox always forgot how small Rattrap was until he was injured. Active, Rattrap filled more space than his actual body did. This flesh-form didn't help. Without the added bulk of his beast-mode, without armour, without even clothing, Rattrap looked so small and vulnerable that Rhinox was almost afraid to touch him.

They'd cleaned up the blood, unrolled a sheet of packing foam on the table, then laid Rattrap on it on his front. There hadn't been time for delicacy - the polymer had been smeared on, leaving Rattrap with grayish stripes across his back and patches on his arms and legs. It was easy to tell where Megatron had taken over the operation - the patches were much smoother and tidier. The polymer looked like flesh but was actually more like rubber. Hopefully Rattrap's body would heal its wounds on its own, under the polymer, which could then be peeled off.

Rhinox sat on the table next to Rattrap and lightly rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. No space on his back - what wasn't covered by gray polymer was covered by reddish-purple bruises they'd found when they washed off the blood. No scanners, no sensors, just flesh-damped senses, the contact was a way of reassuring himself that Rattrap was still alive. His breathing was ragged and his heartbeat was too fast but it was strong.

Rattrap hadn't regained full consciousness since the explosion. Sometimes his eyes would open and he'd try to talk before the pain put him back into stasis. Rhinox envied Dinobot's hearing loss. Dinobot couldn't hear Rattrap's whimpering as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He didn't hear his screams when the shrapnel was removed. _I wish there was something I could do, some way to take his pain away._

Optimus had remained by Rattrap's side, determined not to lose another friend. Megatron had slipped away as soon as the transfusion was done, complaining about the blood under his nails. Inferno had seemed a bit dizzy afterwards but insisted she was fine. Tarantulas had been forced to wash her hands before she left. Dinobot hadn't left after his own wounds had been treated. When Rhinox said he could go, Dinobot merely repeated, "He saved my life." Rhinox couldn't blame Dinobot for being a bit stuck on that point. Before, such an explosion would have been an inconvenience. Now just the edge of it nearly killed Rattrap. If Dinobot had been alone ...

"I'm surprised Megatron helped us," said Rhinox quietly. "If he hadn't ..."

"It's probably as Tarantulas said - try the experiment on a Maximal first. He just wanted to see if he could do it." Optimus shook his head. "I suppose he didn't do it out of a feeling of camaraderie."

"'Make good of bad, and friends of foes.' Of course not. He wants something," Dinobot grumbled.

"Under the circumstances, I'd rather owe Megatron," said Rhinox, squeezing Rattrap's shoulder lightly. _But I only _nearly_ lost a friend today, and I have work to do ..._ With Dinobot wounded and unable to complete his investigation, Rhinox had stepped in to finish up. "There was nothing to recover, Optimus," he said after a moment. "The explosion completely destroyed Crossbolt's head. There wasn't a scrap of viable circuitry left. At the same time a surge destroyed the computer Dinobot was using to tap into his memory module."

"So it was a power surge," said Optimus hopefully.

The engineer shook his head. "It was a bomb. The pattern of damage was clear and I found fragments of the device. Crossbolt's love of etching didn't do us any favours - it just weakened his plating and made more shrapnel. The bomb didn't cause the surge though. The computer was destroyed by a virus."

"One of the flashburn viruses," said Dinobot. "I've seen them before."

Rattrap twitched suddenly, mumbled something incomprehensible, tried to get up, and screamed, clawing at the table. Rhinox got down and leaned over, patting his friend's neck and shoulders until he calmed down.

After a minute, Rattrap opened his eyes. He managed to smile faintly. "Knew you'd be here. Where's Dinobot?"

"He's fine," said Rhinox without thinking, then tapped Rattrap on the shoulder and moved aside so he could see the warrior sitting by the opposite table.

Rattrap made a face but his relief was obvious. He pushed himself up on his elbows though it was obvious that moving hurt. "Nngh. Just hate to think I risked my hide for ..." He trailed off, a kind of horrified realisation coming over his features. Rhinox pushed a datapad into his hands, the first words on the screen being, **Your audios are damaged.** When he finished reading the report, Rattrap groaned and sank back onto the table. Rhinox patted him on an undamaged bit of his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"How d'you _think_ I'm feelin'?" Rattrap demanded, addressing the datapad. He spoke like Dinobot did now, too harsh and too loud, unable to hear his own voice to modulate it. "Can't ... can't shut off my pain receptors. Gotta feel everything. An' why's it so cold in here?"

Rhinox pulled off his shirt and draped it over Rattrap. There were bloodstains on it - he hadn't had a chance to change his clothes - but he doubted Rattrap would mind. Rattrap tried to turn on his side to curl up, winced, and settled onto his front again, shrugging the fabric up over his shoulders. There was a snort from Dinobot. "Only _you_ would squeak of pain when you are lucky to be alive, mouse," he said, glancing up from his datapad.

Rattrap turned his head to glare. "Ain't _me_ that's lucky, scalebelly. If I hadn't been there, you'd be perforated Pred!"

Dinobot looked away and curled into himself so slightly that Rhinox only saw it because he knew it was there, a physical manifestation of the words he'd said a dozen times before: _I know. You saved my life._

Awkward silence, the argument cut short by honesty. Optimus rescued them both by breaking it: "How did you know to act, Rattrap?"

Rattrap shrugged awkwardly, then winced at the movement. "Spent a lotta time in demolitions. I hear a special little click, I hit the deck." He sighed. "Last thing I ever heard. Great."

"Your hearing loss might be temporary," Rhinox reminded him, settling back on the table by Rattrap's head and putting his hand back on his shoulder. "Your body may heal on its own."

"Might not," grumbled Rattrap. "I gotta hear this siren for the rest of my life, too?"

"We don't know yet."

Rattrap shook his head. "Great. So that's two of us down for a while. You just know Megs and them are gonna try to find a way to take advantage."

"Even with both of you out, they don't have the advantage of numbers," said Optimus.

"Quickstrike and Silverbolt are not ready." Dinobot glanced over at the engineer. "Though perhaps it doesn't matter. I think the Predacons have a renewed respect for Rhinox. Not many people can get away with shoving Megatron."

Rhinox felt his cheeks go hot. "The cargo bay was full of Predacons, you were both covered in blood, and Terrorsaur was crouched over Rattrap. What was I _supposed_ to think?"

"You thought _Terrorsaur_ got the best of me?" Rattrap heckled. "I'm insulted!" Rhinox relaxed his grip on Rattrap's shoulder. If he was cracking jokes, he was going to be fine.

Optimus seemed to think so as well. "Are you up to discussing Dinobot's investigation?"

"Yeah, why not?" Rattrap asked. "Give me somethin' to think about other than how much everything hurts."

"All right," said Optimus. "Dinobot?"

"The shot was at a downward angle. The killer was either tall, hovering, or, most likely, lying in the crawlspace. Rhinox could not have been the killer," said Dinobot, nodding to the engineer. "He would have been too large to fit in the crawlspace. As well, I have him on camera in the engineering section at the time of the murder. As for Cheetor, there were too many people walking in and out of the control room for him to have left without being noticed. However, he was in the perfect place to tamper with the security system."

"He did _not_," snapped Rhinox.

"I didn't say he _did_. It _is_ a possibility. I found Crossbolt's things hidden in the wall between Crossbolt's and Cheetor's quarters," Dinobot snarled back. "You, vermin, claim to have alibis, none of which I can check. This includes the alibi of distance, if you didn't sneak up to the _Axalon_ and only reveal yourself later, after you had been summoned." Rattrap made a face at him. "Optimus, I cannot place at the time of death. He appears in no security footage."

"I was out in the hangar organising the loaders," said Optimus.

"No one here can vouch for that."

Rhinox glared at the warrior. "I can't believe you suspect Optimus. Or any of us!"

"'To show an unfelt sorrow is an office which the false man does easy.' I suspect _everyone_. _You_ certainly have the skill to bypass the security system, Rhinox. It was not necessarily anyone in the crew. There were the workers. Someone else may have slipped aboard. I do not have enough information to give you any answers!" Dinobot finished, punching his chair's armrest.

"All right," said Rhinox quietly, though the tone of voice would be lost on Dinobot. "We're all frustrated and on edge here. It's been a hard day."

"I should have realised Crossbolt was equipped with an explosive device," said Dinobot, angry but the anger directed inward. "Especially considering the other traps in his body. I have ... encountered such things before, though never in a civilian."

"Could it have been added after? By his killer as a way of causing more damage?" asked Optimus. "Wait ... Other traps?"

"Your friend was very well-armed." Dinobot shook his head. "If the assassin wanted Crossbolt's memory module destroyed, he could have shot it easily enough. There is no reason to have taken the time to install a bomb that does so little damage. Relatively speaking." He paused, then, "It was not one of the Predacons, before anyone accuses them."

"You left Terrorsaur alone with the body!" Rattrap accused.

"He has the skill to rig a bomb. He does _not_ have the skill to implant a virus," said Dinobot.

"But it's fine to accuse _us_," grumbled Rhinox to himself.

It wasn't meant to be heard but he realised Sentinel picked it up and transcribed it anyway when Dinobot growled. "I have known Terrorsaur for years; I _know_ what he is and is not capable of. I do not know you Maximals nearly so well."

"Crossbolt was an information trader as well as cargo," said Optimus. "Maybe he had the traps installed as a precaution."

"I've only ever heard of 'em in spies," said Rattrap quietly, or what should have been quiet if he could hear.

"He wasn't a spy," said Optimus firmly. "I've got the rank to know."

"You wouldn't. 'Cause that's what a spy _is_."

Optimus shot him a look of wounded anger, then left without a word. Dinobot stood up after a moment, muttering something about returning to his quarters, though Rhinox didn't know if it was directed at him or if Dinobot was thinking out loud again. The warrior gave Rattrap an unreadable look, then left, carefully holding onto the wall for balance.

Alone, Rhinox frowned at Rattrap. "That was vicious."

"Well, he _wouldn't_ know," Rattrap mumbled, looking upset.

Rattrap hadn't meant it unkindly, he'd just been tactless. Rhinox reached down and squeezed his friend's hand. "You saved Dinobot's life and you're still alive. I'd say you did good."

Rattrap squeezed back, hard. "Just ... just doin' my job."

"You're going to be fine," Rhinox insisted. "You want me to get you anything?"

"We still got crocodile around?"

"We're going to have crocodile around for _days_."

* * *

Head pillowed on his right arm, Rattrap stretched out his left and wiggled his fingers, watching them through half-closed eyes. _So I got Predacon fuel runnin' through my lines now. Ain't the first time._ Getting put back together by a Predacon, _that_ was new and unnerving. Especially Megatron - Rattrap had no illusions what the Predacon commander thought of him. He tried curling up to get more comfortable and to tuck Rhinox's shirt around himself better but moving pulled on his wounds. He was pretty sure the protein polymer wouldn't pull off, it just hurt too much to move. He'd just have to put up with his legs being cold for a while.

Rattrap managed to prop himself up on his elbows when the door opened. Rhinox back already? No. Too big, too dark. Megatron. _How long's he been hangin' around waitin' for me to be awake and alone? Better question - why? Best question - where's my gun?_

Smiling, the Predacon handed him a datapad. On the screen was typed: **Did they tell you that I saved your life?**

_Oh, good, he's just here for a gloat._ Apparently Megatron didn't want to leave a record of this little conversation, choosing to write it out instead of letting Sentinel transcribe him. Rattrap decided to play along and typed on the next line: **It might have been mentioned in passing.**

Megatron smirked at that. **This is simply a friendly warning - one day I will ask that the debt be repaid.**

Rattrap grinned back and typed: **Yeah, good luck with that. Get in line.**

He stopped grinning when he read Megatron's response. **If you don't repay me, Dinobot will.**

**Dream on.**

**You were hurt badly while saving his life, then he accidentally made things worse trying to tend your wounds. He feels deeply indebted to you and will continue to do so until he finds a way to reciprocate. He could do this by fulfilling your debt to me.**

Rattrap read the paragraph over three times. _Oh, cheese, no. Dinobot and his stupid honour. He _would_ follow through with it, the big idiot._ Rattrap typed: **What are you after?**

The Predacon didn't answer, merely took the datapad from Rattrap's hands, smiled, and left.

Rattrap settled himself as comfortably as he could on the table. _He'll spring it on me when the time's right. Of course. Classic Megatron._

_All I gotta do is get Dinobot out of my debt, then I can tell Megatron to cram it._

_To be continued ..._

* * *

A/N: Next chapter eventually. Airazor and Cheetor snoop around and Inferno confronts her Maximal past.


	16. This, And What Needful Else

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
This, And What Needful Else**

They had stayed in the xenobiology lab because they felt it best not to move Rattrap too much and because it was closer to everything than his quarters were. Rhinox had been standing vigil for the last six hours, refusing to leave his friend's side. Tigatron had dropped in an hour ago, at the end of the fourth shift. He hadn't seen anyone since. It was to be expected - everyone who wasn't on monitor duty slept during the midnight shift.

Except Rhinox, or so he tried. He was so exhausted that he hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep until someone shook his shoulder. It was a large hand, using only the fingertips, unused to the broad tactile gestures of the Maximals. Rhinox sat up from where he'd slumped across the table but didn't release Rattrap's hand. "Mph. Dinobot?"

Dinobot stood at the head of the table, looking down at them - Rhinox, seated next to the table; Rattrap, lying prone on it, covered by a blanket and almost seeming to sleep peacefully if one ignored the lines of tension on his face. Dinobot snatched his hand back as soon as Rhinox moved. His other hand was braced on the table next to his datapad. He looked a bit odd and it took Rhinox a few seconds to realise that it was because Dinobot's hair was damp and he was clean. It took being covered in a comrade's blood to get the warrior into the shower. "Go on," Dinobot said, harsher and brusquer than usual in his deafness. "You'll be no good to anyone if you wear yourself out."

Rhinox rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "And you'll be no good to anyone if you don't let yourself heal. What time is it?"

"Midnight," said Dinobot, picking up the datapad so he could follow the conversation.

_No wonder I fell asleep._ "You can barely walk." It wasn't due to his shrapnel wounds - those were painful but generally shallow. For some reason Dinobot's sense of balance had gone awry and he could only stay upright if he held onto something. Rattrap had the same problem, those times he was conscious. "You need to rest."

"I can rest here," said Dinobot. "You can barely stay awake."

"I was sleeping before you came in."

"A fine guard _you_ make."

The insulting tone may or may not have been on purpose and annoyed Rhinox anyway. "Against what?" he demanded. "The Preds aren't going to do anything to him, not after all the work Megatron and Tarantulas put in."

"Do not let Megatron lull you into a false sense of security," Dinobot rumbled.

Rattrap shifted in his sleep, probably trying to find a more comfortable position but instead just pulling on his wounds. He cried out without waking and Rhinox stroked his hair and neck until he calmed down. Rhinox sighed and looked back at the warrior. "He doesn't need _protection_, Dinobot. He ..."

They both noticed Dinobot's hand at the same time. Dinobot drew it back almost guiltily though he had done nothing more than set down his datapad so he could reach forward, just a little. It was a perfectly reasonable gesture - hesitant, wanting to help but being uncertain how - but Dinobot jumped back like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

Rhinox suddenly felt angry - not at Dinobot but at the culture that programmed him to think that compassion was something to be ashamed of. "Can we cut out the macho posturing for a minute?" he demanded. "You _want_ to do something for him. You _want_ to help but all you can do is keep watch. Right now it's all that _anyone_ can do."

"Anyone?" Dinobot asked, picking up his datapad again. Deaf, in pain, with a too-open organic face, Dinobot couldn't mask himself and one word became a whole argument: _Anyone? _You _could do more. You always have a solution. I'm jealous that you can do more and I cannot._

Honesty for honesty, then, even if Dinobot didn't intend to let so much slip: "I can't. Everyone turns to me like I can make everything better and this time I _can't_."

Dinobot tightened his grip on the datapad and the muscles bulged along his arm. "I ... understand."

"Here we are," said Rhinox quietly, "the two strongest Maximals, and all our strength is useless. There's nothing you can fight, nothing I can build, just an injured organic." He sighed, stroking the back of Rattrap's hand with his thumb. "He's not in any danger now but he nearly died and he's in a lot of pain. He's vulnerable right now and I don't think he'd want you to see him like this."

"I need to do _something_."

Rhinox glanced over at Rattrap before turning back to Dinobot. "If it was you who took the worst of the blast, if you were the helpless one, would _you_ want _him_ there?"

The reply was automatic: "I am a warrior. I do not _need_ anyone to watch over me."

"I didn't say 'need'."

This time, Dinobot paused, visibly turning the thought over in his mind. He closed his eyes and turned his head away. After a minute he took a deep breath and grated out a word: "Yes."

Rhinox nodded and stood up. Dinobot found it difficult to lie outright but this struggle wasn't to speak a lie, it was to bite back his pride and programming long enough to tell the truth. "All right. If you can say it, he probably feels the same way about you. Come over here. If he needs something he'll tell you himself, but he gets panicky if he only half wakes up and thinks he's alone. Since he can't hear, holding his hand reassures him."

"Perhaps ..."

"Sentinel only transcribes words. If he just whimpers or screams, you won't know."

Dinobot opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. The expression was enough. _He hadn't realised. He couldn't hear Rattrap screaming and he never cried out in pain himself, so he just assumed Rattrap didn't either._ But the dismay was only a flicker, quickly replaced by resolve. Dinobot said he would stand vigil, so he would.

_We've finally found something we can agree on._ He moved aside so that Dinobot could sit down, and Rattrap didn't seem to notice when his hand was moved from the engineer's large hand to the warrior's larger one.

Rhinox reached over and clasped Dinobot's shoulder. The warrior didn't pull away. "Thank you, Dinobot."

"Go on." But Dinobot's voice was quieter this time.

* * *

"I thought Tigatron had fifth shift tonight."

Optimus looked up to see Rhinox just inside the door to the control room. "She took over the Predacon Megacycle for Dinobot so I took over the midnight shift for her. How's Rattrap?"

Rhinox padded over, walking slowly like his feet were too heavy. "Sleeping, like you should be."

The Maximal commander shrugged. "I tried for a while last shift, then gave up. I should be exhausted enough by the end of this one. I'm surprised you're taking a break."

The engineer shook his head and settled his hand on Optimus' shoulder. "I'm going to bed. Dinobot's looking after Rattrap."

"Dinobot can barely look after himself right now."

"He'd just be pacing his quarters otherwise," said Rhinox. "Rattrap mostly needs company. The explosion shook him up worse than he'll admit. If there's a real emergency, Dinobot has enough sense to call for help." He shook his head. "But for more minor things, see if you can get people to drop in every so often to check on Rattrap."

"Not Di ..." Optimus trailed off with a smile. "Of course not Dinobot. A warrior doesn't _need_ help. To offer it is an attack on his dignity."

Rhinox chuckled and took his hand back. "But if people just _happen_ to drop in and just _happen_ to insist on helping both of them, they're just being nosey Maximal busybodies. Dinobot will be annoyed but not resentful. He means well, he's just not physically capable of much right now." He sobered quickly. "He needs to feel useful. Dinobot's standing guard against nothing but he _feels_ like he's doing something. It's the only way he'll rest."

"What about you?"

The engineer shrugged. "I can try. Maybe I'll come up with something in the morning."

"'Something'."

"A way to damp Rattrap's pain receptors," said Rhinox. "Figure out why Dinobot lost his sense of balance. Fix their hearing. Something. Anything. It's up to me - the Preds lost interest after the blood was cleaned up."

"Up to _us_," Optimus corrected, reaching up to pat Rhinox's forearm, then sighed. "I wish someone had told me that biology would be important some day." He and Rhinox could have patched up Rattrap on their own ... if his wounds weren't so severe that speed was of the essence. And while they might have thought of the idea of a blood transfusion, they would have never known there were different blood types without Tarantulas. The realisation that they could have killed their friend by accident was one of the reasons Optimus hadn't been able to sleep.

"Anyway, I'm off. See you in the morning." Rhinox started to leave, paused at the door, then looked back. "I didn't tell you earlier because it was a bad time, but there's never going to be a _good_ time for it. Dinobot told me something strange this afternoon. He said the Preds never fired on the warship that was chasing them. They were just trying to outrun it."

Optimus frowned. "He's sure?"

"Who do you think was on tactical?"

"That's ... I don't even _know_ what to make of that," said Optimus. "Why would the warship claim the Predacons damaged its scanning array?"

"I've been asking myself that all day. I don't know."

* * *

"'... Here comes the good Macduff. How goes the world, sir, now?'" said Dinobot, reciting to himself in an attempt to stay awake. It wouldn't do to fall asleep on his watch, not after he'd sent Rhinox away for that very reason. He found himself going back to _Macbeth_ - the play had been on his mind all day.

"'Why, see you not?'" he replied, not bothering to mark the change of speaker. "'Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? Those that Macbeth hath slain.'" It wasn't as if he was performing or even reading to someone else. He did it for himself and he knew who was saying which lines.

He sat with his back to the table, datapad in his left hand, resting on his thigh. Watching his words appear on the screen helped - it was a way to check that, deaf and tired, he was enunciating properly. His right arm was stretched back along the table so his hand could cover Rattrap's. Rattrap twitched occasionally and had thrashed once, without regaining consciousness. Dinobot couldn't bring himself to pet Rattrap like Rhinox had so he had just squeezed his hand and hoped it was enough.

"'Alas the day! What good could they pretend? ...'" Dinobot continued, and startled when the next line on the screen wasn't, **They were suborn'd,** but, **Optimus Primal: How are you holding up, Dinobot?**

Dinobot's head snapped up to look at the door but it was closed and no one was there. After another second he realised what that meant - Optimus was speaking through the intercom. He looked back down at the datapad. "Do not concern yourself for me. Should _you_ be on shift?"

**Optimus Primal: Probably not. Who are you going to report me to?**

"I should have told Rhinox to put you over his shoulder." Dinobot paused. "You knew I was here, not Rhinox."

**Optimus Primal: He stopped in to say goodnight.**

_And this room has cameras now,_ Dinobot remembered. _Optimus just saw me jump like a fool._ At least Optimus had the tact not to mention it. And, knowing he was being watched, it took an effort of will for Dinobot to keep his hand on Rattrap's instead of snatching it back. Maximals were tactile - touch was so much a part of their interactions that Optimus wouldn't even notice the gesture unless Dinobot drew attention to it. Predacons had different rules and Dinobot couldn't help feeling that he was at best performing a breach of etiquette. He changed the subject: "You have been active for twenty-two megacycles. After all that has happened ..."

**You've been active for eighteen and took an arm and a leg full of shrapnel,** wrote the screen. **Besides, I may as well get used to being awake now. I'm thinking of taking over this shift permanently. It's at an awkward time so it'd be easier if one person always ran it. The others complain that it's boring. I find it peaceful.**

_It makes you feel protective,_ thought Dinobot, then realised he said it aloud when the words appeared on the screen, followed by, **Optimus Primal: So I worry about everyone.**

"You _do_ realise that the biggest threats are in here with us."

Sentinel didn't transcribe laughter but Dinobot could imagine the quiet chuckle before the reply: **Everyone, Dinobot. Even the Predacons.** After a moment, he asked, **How's Rattrap?**

"The same," said Dinobot, glancing back at the sleeping Maximal. "He has not awakened since I arrived."

**Optimus Primal: Good. At least I hope that's good. If this organic unconsciousness is like stasis, it means his energies are directed inward.** There was a brief pause, then, **Rhinox told me you said you didn't fire on the warship that was chasing you.**

Dinobot been expecting the question; perhaps not now but he knew it would come. Rhinox had seemed agitated enough by the information that it was unsurprising he'd talked to Optimus about it. "We never fired on it," he repeated.

Expecting an 'are you _sure_?', he got instead, **Did you happen to see the condition of their scanning array?**

"I was paying attention to their weapons and defences, not their sensors," said Dinobot. "Though ... we _would_ have been scanning the warship. There might be a record in the Predacon base's logs. Do not hold out much hope, though - both ships were putting out jamming fields in an attempt to prevent target locks." That and Waspinator's erratic piloting had kept them from being destroyed outright - they never fired on the warship but the warship certainly fired at _them_.

**Optimus Primal: I'll ask Megatron about it in the morning. Thanks. Look after yourself.**

"Be sure to do the same."

Dinobot waited a few minutes to make certain Optimus had withdrawn, then continued: "'They were suborn'd: Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons ...'"

* * *

It wasn't that Rattrap didn't feel pain when he was asleep, it was that he could ignore it. He couldn't ignore thirst. The scratchy feeling in his throat nagged at him until he gave in and opened his eyes.

Usually when Rattrap woke up he'd give Rhinox's hand a squeeze, just a way to verify that his friend was there and real. He couldn't this time because his hand was lying palm-down on the table, covered by Rhinox's larger one. But Rhinox was still _there_, which meant Rattrap was alive so that was all right.

Rattrap frowned, trying to pull himself to full consciousness. It wasn't Rhinox's hand. Rhinox had heavy, broad hands - this one was longer with more pronounced joints. Longer nails. Skin a little lighter with a reddish tinge. Light brown stripe curving up from under the wrist. Tidy little gray patches like rubber. Rattrap turned his head to follow the sprawled arm and found the rest of Dinobot slouched back against the table.

When wiggling his fingers didn't get a response, Rattrap slipped his hand free, then carefully pushed himself up onto his knees. It made him dizzy but kneeling was the closest thing he'd found to a comfortable sitting position if he didn't sit back on his heels - he wasn't damaged below the knees. He moved down the table a bit so he could see Dinobot's face.

Rattrap chuckled - the warrior was asleep, chin on his chest and, more interestingly, an active datapad on his lap. Rattrap's own was off. He reached down cautiously and snagged Dinobot's, only bumping into the warrior's shoulder once. Dinobot didn't react. Rattrap settled himself on his side with a wince and pulled the blanket back up to his chest. His right side wasn't as badly damaged as his left, though it still hurt to lie on his injuries. However, it was that or cramp up from lying on his front too long. He tapped a few keys on the datapad. _Maybe it'll say why chopperface is here instead of big green._

He read the last few lines on the screen twice, trying to make sense of them: **This, and what needful else that calls upon us, by the grace of grace, we will perform in measure, time and place. So, thanks to all at once and to each one, whom we invite to see us crowned at scone.**

_Maybe I'm just not thinkin' straight._ Rattrap could believe that. Even patched up, his shrapnel wounds still burned and throbbed, making it hard to think about anything else. He frowned at the words for a while longer. _No, I'm pretty sure _I'm _fine, it's the datapad that's messed up._

He scrolled up a little. Apparently Dinobot talked to himself. _Cheese, there's a lot here. Chopperface must've been talkin' the whole time. And it's all nonsense!_ Sometimes there would be an interesting phrase - "I have no words, my voice is in my sword," sounded like something Dinobot might say - but most of it was a jumble, like Dinobot was arguing with himself.

_Or tellin' a story,_ Rattrap realised. _Like readin' dialogue off a script._ He continued scrolling up, trying to find the beginning of it.

The datapad was snatched out of his hand. He didn't need to hear the snarl to catch the meaning: _Mine!_

"Fine, fine, yours, sheesh," Rattrap grumbled as Dinobot sat down again, this time facing the table.

Dinobot said something, then grabbed Rattrap's datapad, activated it, shoved it into his hand, and spoke again. **You're awake.**

"Full marks for observation." Rattrap set the datapad down in front of himself and propped his chin on his fist. "Not for long, I hope."

Rattrap reached down the table for the canteen but it was a few centimetres out of range of his fingertips. Dinobot pushed it into his grasp before Rattrap had to move to reach it. Then it was an awkward angle to drink from, but he managed it. When he was done, Rattrap gestured with the canteen. "I thought you'd left," he said for something to say. "Earlier, I mean."

The warrior shrugged. **I came back. You are** - slight pause for that weird reverse-sigh he did when he was thinking about what word to use next when a normal person would have said 'um' - **disliked by the Predacons. I thought it prudent to keep watch.**

"After all the work Megs put into me? Pretty sure he wants me alive," Rattrap teased. "What'd you do with Rhinox?"

**Dinobot: He needed to sleep. I convinced him to leave.**

Caught off-guard, Rattrap took a moment to respond. "Thanks. He hasn't caught a break since the explosion." No use telling Dinobot he was in even worse shape - he'd just act offended. And giving Rhinox a break had been such a surprisingly _nice_ thing for Dinobot to do that Rattrap couldn't goad him for it. _Enh, he's probably up to something._ He set the canteen aside and settled back down on his front.

**Dinobot: You will sleep again?**

"That's the intent. I just woke up 'cause I was thirsty," said Rattrap, shrugging the blanket over his shoulders. _Nngh. This ain't the right body for this position. What I wouldn't give to be able to lie on my back for a while._ He tucked his less-damaged right arm under his head, stretched out the left, and realised something else: _Oh, slag. I either gotta stay awake until someone else comes or admit to slaggin' _dinobutt _that I've been havin' panic attacks._

It turned out to be a moot point as Dinobot's hand engulfed his again. Rattrap looked back in surprise - the first time might have been an accident, a random sprawl as he slept, but twice was deliberate. The warrior's expression was neutral as he settled himself more comfortably at the table, leaning his free arm on it and arranging his datapad like he planned to spend the next while reading. **Rhinox insisted.**

_Good old Rhinox._ Rattrap regarded the dark hand covering his. Not properly holding, just resting on top. Oddly tense, like Dinobot was embarrassed or just not used to the gesture or both. "This ain't the Pred idea of a vigil, is it?"

Dinobot shrugged. **You are a Maximal.** His expression became stern. **Now rest. Heal. I have no desire to do this any longer than I have to.**

Rattrap chuckled, recognising that he was being baited but lacking the energy to pick up the argument. _Poor petulant Pred, cruelly forced to make nice._ Besides, he didn't want to risk annoying Dinobot too badly, not now. He might let go.

_To be continued ..._


End file.
